


Life on the Hill

by disseria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom!Stiles, Character Study, Derek and Stiles are kind of ridiculous when they fuck, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Firefly love, Graduate School, M/M, Minor Character Death, Serenity spoilers, Slow Burn, bottom!Derek, shout out to my girl Seung Mina!, sometimes butt sex is the answer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 40,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disseria/pseuds/disseria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a first-year at St. Anselm's School of Religion. Fourth-year Derek Hale is a recluse who wants nothing to do with him, or anyone else, for that matter. Stiles has no problem keeping his distance, until one night, when no one else is around, Derek asks if they can study together. </p><p>Stiles' life will never be the same.</p><p> </p><p><i>"I always say you need to follow your heart."</i> </p><p>						- Dr. Melissa Ponzio</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sessions with Dr. Ponzio

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm kind of a rebel because I basically only want to write things that nobody else is going to write. I mean, seriously, who else is going to write a Teen Wolf seminary AU?
> 
> What initially drew me into writing this was the idea that a good portion of the story could unfold through counseling sessions with the characters. But, since I wanted this to be a true Sterek fic, I couldn't justify showing counseling sessions with all of the characters, which means the only characters you get to see sitting down with Dr. Ponzio besides Stiles and Derek are Scott and Allison, because their sessions directly relate to the main pair.
> 
> Lots of Easter eggs in here, for those who care about those things. I think I managed to somehow squeeze in every single Teen Wolf character of note, with the exception of Matt, because I just couldn't figure out how to fit him in. Lots of Firefly, and even a couple of references to My So-called Life. So, happy hunting!
> 
> I hope you like it! Please leave comments if you do! I love comments!

"So you like to be called 'Stiles,' right?" Melissa asked, looking over his file, as she sat down in a big cushy chair and gestured for him to sit on the couch opposite her. She was short, and slim, and her bouncy black curls framed her face almost like a lion's mane. At least she seemed like a friendly lion.

"Yup," Stiles answered, smiling and setting his backpack on his lap. He ran his fingers through the soft waves of his brown hair, hoping Dr. Ponzio couldn't tell how nervous he was.

"How was orientation week?" Melissa asked, crossing her legs and setting the file on her lap. "I hope it wasn't too overwhelming. We tried to give you all some more free time this year so that you could soak it all in," she said, wiggling her fingers at him, like she was performing a magic trick.

"Yeah! It was great!" Stiles said, bobbing his head up and down. "Breakfast at the president's house, the retreat with Professor Ashby. It was really nice. I mean, it was a little overwhelming, but not too bad."

"And, you're living with…" Melissa trailed off, opening his file again, "Scott McCall?"

"Uh huh," Stiles affirmed.

"Everything okay there?" Melissa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," Stiles said, nodding again. "He took me out for drinks the first night I got here, showed me around town. He's cool."

"Good," Melissa said, closing his file. "So, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, Stiles. Why did you decide to come to St. Anselm's?"

"Really," he began, shrugging and half-laughing, "when I pulled up pictures of the school online, and saw that it was literally a castle on a hill, I thought, 'I could go to school at Hogwarts!' And then, I came to visit, and everything looked as cool as the pictures, and everyone was really nice; I pretty much decided this was where I wanted to be. I didn't even apply to any other schools."

Melissa laughed. "You'd be surprised, I actually hear that a lot, or some version, anyway." She made a note in his file. "So, I'm sure you know this already, but I'm gonna say it anyway. School policy is that each student meets with a counselor at least once every two to three months. Right now, you've been assigned to me, but if you ever feel like maybe we're not a good fit, or maybe you'd just like to talk to someone else, you can always make an appointment with Dr. Morrell, Dr. Deaton, or Dr. Ashby. You could even be reassigned to one of them if you want, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles said, hoping their session was coming to a close.

"It was nice meeting you Stiles," Melissa said, smiling and holding out her hand.

"You too!" he replied brightly, giving her a firm handshake.

"I'll see you in two months," she said, standing up to walk behind her desk. "Would you mind sending the next person in?"

"Sure," Stiles said, shouldering his backpack. 

He opened her office door and saw Lydia sitting in one of the chairs outside, texting on her phone.

"You're up," he said to her, standing to the side so she could get past him.

Lydia slid her phone into her purse and stood up. 

"What was it like?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

Stiles shrugged. "Fine, I guess. She's really nice."

Lydia took a deep breath and shook out the long curls of her strawberry blonde hair as she strode into Dr. Ponzio's office.

"Wish me luck!" she whispered to Stiles as she walked past him.

Stiles smirked, whispering, "Good luck!" back to her as he closed the door.

He turned and immediately crashed into something very solid.

"You should watch where you're going," he heard a very annoyed voice say.

It was Derek Hale, the fourth-year who had talked to them during one of their orientation seminars about study habits and what to expect during their four years in seminary. He did a question and answer bit after, which ended up being really short, because most of them had been too intimidated to ask him anything. He was also in their Church History class, which Stiles thought was a bit odd, but Greenburg was taking that class too, and he was also a fourth-year, so maybe it wasn't all that strange.

"Sorry," Stiles muttered.

Derek rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh, walking past Stiles and continuing down the corridor. Stiles watched him disappear down the stairwell, and then pulled out his phone to send a text to Allison and Danny. He almost didn't send the text to Jackson, who kind of rubbed Stiles the wrong way, with his blonde hair and high cheekbones, and okay, maybe he was gorgeous, but he was an arrogant bastard, and what Danny saw in him, he had no idea. But, he was Danny's roommate, and Danny's friend, so he kind of had to invite him, whether he wanted to or not. He would just have to make sure he drank enough to ignore Jackson's pointed barbs, which more often than not were thrown in Stiles' direction. No matter, his first week at seminary was officially over now, and he could really use a drink. 

* * *

"What about this one?" Stiles asked, holding up a flashcard.

"I don't know," Allison said, shaking her head.

"What about _this_ one?" he asked, holding up a different flashcard.

"Stiles," Allison said, covering her face with her hands. "I can't do this anymore. My brain is completely fried, and it's…" she paused to look at her watch, "already past midnight." She stood up, reluctant to unwrap herself from the blanket she had found on one of the couches. "And, it's freezing in here! If they want people to use the student lounge, they should actually heat it!"

"But, our first Hebrew quiz is tomorrow!" Stiles complained. "Finstock said we need to know all of the vocab for chapters 1 through 4! I don't know them yet. The quiz is in, like, less than nine hours!"

"I'm sorry," Allison said, folding up the blanket finally and placing it on the chair. "But, I need to go to bed. Lydia, are you coming?"

Lydia looked up from her flashcards. "What? Oh yeah! Just give me a minute," she answered, shoving her flashcards into a pale blue plastic flashcard holder. 

Stiles thought he needed to get some of those as he toyed with the rubber band that he was currently using to keep his flashcards together. At the rate they were going, he was going to need like ten of those flashcard holders before they were through with their first semester.

He turned back to Allison. "Are you ready for the quiz?" he asked. "I don't think you're ready for the quiz. I know _I'm_ not ready for the quiz."

Allison grimaced. "No, but I can wake up early and cram before class. Come on, Stiles," she said, reaching out a hand so that she could help him up off of the floor.

Stiles waved her off, and looked back down at his flashcards. "I'm gonna stay for a bit. You two go ahead."

"All right," Allison said, spinning around and heading towards the door with Lydia. "Watch out for skunks!" she called out over her shoulder. "I saw one walking up the hill last night!"

Stiles made a face at her as she disappeared behind the door as it swung shut. Skunks were gross.

He flipped through the flashcards for a while, becoming more and more discouraged as the strings of Hebrew letters, he assumed they were words, passed before his eyes and none of the meanings would come to him. Perhaps there was some wisdom in Allison's decision to call it a night, he thought, as he pulled the rubber band around the cards.

The room plunged into darkness with the flick of a switch. This was only Stiles' second time being in the student lounge after dark, and the first time by himself. The room was just creepy, with its huge domed ceiling and windows that rattled at the slightest breeze. It was way too big for a student lounge, as far as he was concerned, especially considering the total student population of St. Anselm's was what? 175? 200? They could have at least put some decent furniture in the place.

Sighing, he looked up to the very top of the dome, where glass panels allowed him to look out into the night sky. As much as he found to complain about the space, the room was still stunning, and only served to remind him why he had chosen St. Anselm's in the first place. Whenever his dad decided to come up for a visit, he was definitely going to have to show him the student lounge when he gave him a tour of the school.

Stiles pulled the door open and immediately crashed into something that was familiarly solid. Derek Hale was looking at him like he was the most inept person he had ever met, and Greenburg was standing behind him, chuckling to himself.

"Derek!" Stiles explained, surprised to see him entering the student lounge so late at night. "What are you doing here? It's almost one o'clock!"

Derek squinted at him with a thundercloud face.

"Right! Sorry!" Stiles said, throwing up his hands. "None of my business! Please," he said, reaching over to flick the light back on, "the student lounge is all yours. I am going to bed."

Stiles contorted his body around Derek to leave the room, as Derek had somehow decided that the best way to deal with the situation was to stand absolutely still, right in the middle of the doorway, while staring death daggers at Stiles. Stiles did his best not to touch Derek as he did this, but his elbow grazed Derek's in his attempt to escape, and he could of sworn he saw two puffs of steam jet out of Derek's nostrils, like an angry bull in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Eyes wide, Stiles beat a hasty retreat, not daring to look back at the fourth years and whatever the hell they were doing in the student lounge in the middle of the night.

* * *

Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was 11:50. How he had managed to show up for chapel a full fifteen minutes early he had no idea. It just seemed like he had been rushing through everything he had been doing for the last two weeks, like there was never enough time. He felt like he'd constantly been on the edge of a full blown panic, always afraid that he was going to be late, or that he was forgetting something, or that he just wasn't going to cut it, because seriously, the people in his class were all just ridiculously smart. Lately, he found he was having to constantly remind himself that he was not, in fact, an idiot. 

It had all gone by in a blur. Though he felt a little guilty about it, he had gone to chapel only one other time since classes had started. There was always another test to study for, another paper to write, another book to read, and there just weren't enough hours in the day. Besides, he was totally planning on going to church on Sundays. He had been exploring to find out which of the local churches he felt most comfortable with, and when/if he did find one that he liked, he was probably going to go regularly. Sometimes, he rationalized to himself, there were just other things that were more important than going to chapel every day.

He smiled and nodded at Allison and Lydia, as they sat down on the pew next to him. That was when he noticed Derek Hale sitting on the other side of the aisle, all the way over against the wall, two rows further back from the row in which they were sitting. It was pretty far back, considering there were only two more rows between him and the last row of pews. Compared to the other times Stiles had seen him, Derek actually looked pretty relaxed, though it was telling that as people entered the chapel, no one tried to sit in his pew, or in the pew in front of him. Or, in the pew behind him.

Stiles' attention was drawn forward when the chaplain, Dr. Deaton, started speaking, welcoming them to chapel. Everyone stood for the call to worship and the opening hymn. Stiles sighed inwardly. He would give anything for a worship service with more rousing music, but apparently that was not St. Anselm's forte. 

He hugged Allison and Lydia during the passing of the peace, and shook hands with some of the people around him. Derek had migrated to the center of his pew for this, and shook hands with a couple of people, but quickly moved back next to the wall and sat down as soon as he could do so without looking completely standoffish. Stiles had to wonder why he even bothered coming to chapel at all if he didn't want to interact with anyone.

After the service, Stiles, Allison and Lydia talked about going somewhere for lunch. As they walked, Stiles noticed Derek still sitting in his pew, perusing his bulletin in a badly disguised attempt to avoid talking to anyone, while everyone else made their way to the exit. Stiles purposely started walking slower, just to see if Derek would actually talk to anyone before they left. Allison and Lydia hardly noticed, as they were both on their phones, firing off texts to some of the other first-years to see if anyone wanted to join them.

One of the chaplain assistants, Stiles thought his name was Boyd, eventually began walking towards Derek, and Derek finally stood up to walk towards the aisle. Stiles saw them talking as he, Allison and Lydia left the chapel, and he thought he even saw Derek smile. It hadn't taken Stiles long to figure out that Derek didn't have a lot of friends at the school, so it made sense that he would come to chapel, even if he had no other reason to do so other than to support Boyd, who was apparently one of the few friends that did he have. As for himself, he wasn't sure if sacrificing study time for chapel was something he wanted to continue doing. He guessed the service was okay, but it wasn't really done in a style he liked. Maybe when he was a second-year, he could apply for one of the chaplain assistant positions and push for some changes.

"Jackson and Danny are going to meet us at the bottom of the hill," Lydia was saying, as she tapped some things into her phone. "Is Chinese okay with everyone?"

"Sounds good to me!" Allison said.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles added, bobbing his head in agreement. "Whatever you all want to do."

* * *

"Dr. Ponzio?" Allison asked, poking her head through the open door. 

"Oh, hi!" Melissa said, looking up from her desk. She furrowed her brow, as she stood up and flipped through her calendar. "Did we have a meeting scheduled for today? Oh, here you are! Allison, right?"

"Yeah," Allison said, stepping inside. "I'm sorry, I'm a few minutes early."

"Oh, not a problem," Melissa said, coming around her desk to sit in her big cushy chair. "Come on in," she said, waving Allison to the couch. "Have a seat. You can call me Melissa."

"Okay," Allison said, smiling warmly and closing the door behind her. She pushed a stray curl of long black hair out of her face and sat down.

"So," Melissa began, "how is everything going? How was the first week of class?"

"It was good!" Allison said, brightly. "We had our first Hebrew quiz yesterday, and I got a B. I guess I'll have to study a little more next time."

Melissa waved dismissively. "I've read your file. You're a bright girl; I'm sure you'll do fine." She held up a finger, realizing she had forgotten something. Reaching back to her desk, she poked through a short stack of files. Finding Allison's, she pulled it from the rest, opened it, and placed it on her lap. "So, it looks like you're taking all of the standard first semester classes, and also two electives?" She looked up at Allison. "Are you going to be able to handle that?"

Allison took a deep breath and looked to the side. "Well, I worked full time while taking a full load of classes in undergrad, and I'm not working now, just taking classes, so I think it should be fine. To be honest though, I had no idea how much work would be required in graduate classes. They should really warn us during orientation week," she said, with a laugh.

Melissa smiled and looked at her over the rims of her glasses. "You can always drop a class or two if you have to. The semester's just started."

"Yeah, I know," Allison said, nodding and frowning, looking down at her thumbs as she tapped her thumbnails together. "But, I think I can do it."

"Okay," Melissa said, smiling gently at her. "So, have you thought about life after seminary? Are you on the ordination track?"

"For now," Allison replied, meeting Melissa's dark brown eyes, eyes that were so similar to her own. "Lydia wants to be a hospital chaplain…"

"Lydia's your roommate, right?" Melissa cut in.

"Yeah," Allison said. "We've talked about that a lot, and it sounds like something I might be interested in. Lydia seems pretty determined, though. I think her uncle is a chaplain. I don't know," Allison paused, "hospitals and patients and all that. I guess I could do a semester of CPE* and see how I feel about it."

"You sound a little conflicted," Melissa observed.

Allison nodded slowly, then scratched at her forehead. "It's hard sometimes," she began, frowning a little. "There's just so many voices, you know? So many opinions."

Melissa nodded.

"Both of my parents are pastors," Allison continued, "and my dad's dad, he's a pastor too, so everyone just kind of assumes that's what I'm gonna do."

"That sounds like a lot to live up to," Melissa replied.

Allison took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes wide. "It feels like it sometimes." She grimaced. "It feels right, though, you know? Being here? But, I wonder sometimes if it's actually me that feels that way, or if it's just everyone else telling me I _should_ feel that way? I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents are great! Like, I think if I said I wanted to join the circus or something, they would totally try to understand, but I know that me being here makes them happy. I think I _am_ happy here, though," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Because of me. I think I'm happy here because this is what I want to do." She squeezed her lips together, and seemed to be thinking.

When it looked like she wasn't going to say anything else, Melissa nodded slowly, and asked, "Do you have any siblings?"

Allison shook her head. "No. But, my aunt Kate is kind of like my sister. Or, she used to be anyway. She's only like ten or eleven years older than me. She was actually a student here for a while, but she didn’t finish her last year. Did you know her? Kate Argent?"

Melissa's eyes darkened for a moment, but she managed to keep her face relatively neutral. "Yes, I knew her," she answered, as flatly as possible.

Allison hesitated, but then shook her head. "Nobody talks about it. I don't know what happened, why she never finished. Nobody will tell me. We haven't really heard from her since it happened." She looked up at Melissa. "Do you know what happened?"

Melissa frowned and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I really can't answer that."

Allison brought a hand up to her mouth, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. "Oh! I am so sorry! I shouldn't have asked you that."

Melissa reached out and placed her hand over Allison's. "Don't worry about it," she said gently. "I understand."

Allison smiled at her, still looking embarrassed, but also a little relieved.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Melissa asked.

"No," Allison said, shaking her head.

"Okay," Melissa replied, standing up. "Good first meeting; it was very nice to meet you." She paused, grasping Allison's file in front of her with both hands, with a big smile on her face. "I think you're gonna be fine. It's just your first semester; lots of things will change between now and graduation. Believe me, I've been around long enough to see it all. I'll see you in a few months, okay? We'll talk more next time."

"Okay," Allison replied, standing up, and pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "Thank you."

Melissa nodded, saying, "You're welcome."

She walked back behind her desk and glanced at her calendar. "If Danny is out there, could you please send him in?"

Allison nodded and opened the door, and Melissa could hear her speaking outside. "Hi Danny! You can go in now."

*clinical pastoral education

* * *

"Oh my God, Scott! This is so cool!" Stiles squealed, pushing open the door to reveal a dark and cavernous room filled with ancient stacks of books and papers, all covered with dust and cobwebs. 

Scott gave him a gleeful grin. "Isn't it? I thought you guys would like it."

"What is all of this?" Allison gasped.

"A bunch of old stuff they forgot about, I guess," Scott answered. "Nobody ever comes up here."

Scott had suggested they all go up to the bell tower. It was the middle of the night, so the adjoining library and chapel were empty. Scott was a chaplain's assistant and had what he liked to call "the keys to the kingdom," the ridiculously large set of keys that all of the chaplain's assistants got to have as long as they were working for the chaplain. Whenever he had them, they made him look like a custodian, but they unlocked almost all of the doors in the seminary, so they were, by definition, awesome. 

Although Scott was a fourth-year, besides Lydia, he was youngest one in the group, and for some reason had decided to take Stiles and his first-year friends under his wing. They all had a tendency to follow Scott around the school now, like a flock of ducklings, and he was only too happy to answer their questions or reassure them that they would indeed make it through their first semester.

"Hey, McCall," said Jackson, "you ever bring any girls up here?"

Scott blushed, and Stiles noticed his brief glance at Allison. 

"No," Scott answered quickly, shaking his head. "I came up here with the other chaplain's assistants when we first got our keys, just to kind of look around, but that's pretty much the only other time I've been up here."

Danny, their tall, dark friend from Hawaii, held up a painting of what could only be described as a disembodied ghost head. His long, lanky frame was throwing up a creepy shadow on the wall behind him. 

"Slender Man," Stiles whispered to himself, his eyes wide in awe.

"This is some weird shit, Scott," Danny said, grimacing at the picture, "but I kind of like it." He smiled then, his ever-present dimples becoming even deeper. 

Stiles gave a sideways glace at the people he was with. What was it with all of them having dimples?

"Can I have it?" Danny asked, showing Scott the picture.

Scott shrugged. "I guess. I don't know who would miss it."

Danny smiled and nodded at his find like he had just discovered a hidden treasure.

"Dude!" Jackson said, moving to stand next to the much taller man. "Are you gonna put that up in our apartment?"

"Oh, yeah!" Danny replied, smiling brilliantly at his roommate. "Right on the kitchen wall, so it's the first thing everyone sees when they open the front door."

Jackson looked askance at the painting, then shook his head with a laugh. "You are so twisted."

Danny gave him a cheesy smile and hugged the picture. "It's amazing, and I will love it forever."

Jackson just rolled his eyes and walked away.

"What's this?" asked Lydia, pointing at a large window, through which they could see a small room.

"They had a radio station up here in the 60's," Scott said, shining a flashlight through the glass. "Since the school is on a hill, and Westminster Hall is so high, they decided it would be a good place to broadcast radio signals from. I think the army used it for a while, once, too."

"Huh," Lydia replied, nodding her head. She stepped closer to the window. "I wonder when the last time anyone was in there. It's a total mess."

"Come on," Scott said, waving the beam of his flashlight across the room. "The way to the bell tower is over here."

Danny set the painting down, determined to collect it on their way back. Scott unlocked another door, this one leading to a narrow corridor.

"We just keep going to the end," Scott said.

"What are all these other doors?" Allison asked.

"I don't know," Scott said, shrugging. "I haven't been in them."

He unlocked the door at the end of the corridor, and they all filed into a cold dark room with walls of exposed brick. There were decrepit black bookshelves all along the walls filled with files, boxes, and even stacks of old newspapers. Stiles picked up one of the crumbling yellow sheets.

"Look!" he said. "It's from 1958!"

"Awesome, Stilinski," Jackson deadpanned, which caused Danny to smack his shoulder. "Hey!" Jackson explained, but Danny just shook his head at him, in a fondly chastising way, the way a puppy's owner would upon finding out that the tiny creature had ravaged a roll of toilet paper.

Scott shined the flashlight on a set of steel rungs that were sticking out of the wall. They formed a ladder going up to a trap door in the ceiling. "The bell tower's up there."

"Is it safe?" asked Lydia, looking at the steel rungs suspiciously.

"Totally!" Scott assured her, grabbing onto one of the rungs and trying to shake it. "These rungs have been here for like eighty years!"

Stiles clapped him on the shoulder. "That's not really reassuring, Scott."

"No, seriously," Scott said, placing his foot on the bottom rung, "we just climbed these this last summer. It's totally safe!"

He put the end of the flashlight in his mouth, grabbing it with his teeth, and began climbing up the ladder. At the top, he pushed up the trap door with a grunt. They all jumped when it slammed down on the other side. 

Scott pulled himself the rest of the way up and then called down to them. "Come on, guys! The view is really great from up here!"

They all traded glances with each other, until Jackson gestured at the ladder with a half-bow, saying, "Ladies first."

"And, they say chivalry is dead," Allison said sarcastically, sneering at him. She started climbing the ladder anyway.

Upon seeing Allison make it safely to the top, Lydia climbed up the ladder next, and was soon followed by the three men. Stiles was the last one up, and emerged from the trap door to find them touching the giant bells and gazing out at the view.

"It's so pretty up here," Allison said.

Scott seemed to light up with pride. "You can see the whole town from up here," he commented, gently placing an arm around her waist to pull her closer to the wall. 

The huge bells, some of them five feet across, were suspended on wooden beams over their heads, the rims of the lowest ones hanging at about eye level. There were eight columns supporting the roof, one at each corner of the square tower, and another at the halfway point of each of the walls, which were about four feet high. Other than that, it was just air, with nothing between them and the sky above or the valley below.

"See," said Scott, pointing for Allison. "That's the shopping center right there, and behind us is Mt. Tahkeome."

"It's beautiful," Allison said, smiling at Scott. 

"It's really cold up here," Lydia said, rubbing her arms. 

Jackson chivalrously took his jacket off and placed it on her shoulders. 

"Thank you," Lydia said, sounding somewhat surprised.

Jackson gave her a half-smile, and nodded, then went back to looking at the view.

After a while, they all started milling around, taking in the view from the four different sides. At one point, Stiles found himself standing next to Scott, with the others some distance away.

"So, Scott," Stiles began, looking up at the full moon. "You know Derek, right?"

"Who, Derek Hale?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed.

"What about him?"

"What's his deal?" Stiles asked. "It's like he's annoyed all the time. Aren’t people who are going to school to become pastors supposed to be more, I don't know," Stiles made a vague gesture, "pastoral?"

Scott frowned, then looked around as if to make sure the others weren't listening. "I never really got to know him that well. Some stuff happened during our first year; he almost got kicked out of the school. I don't know; I probably shouldn't be saying anything."

"Are you kidding?!" Stiles said, a little too excitedly, but softly because of the expression on Scott's face. "This is what going to a small school is all about! The gossip!"

"Hey! What are you two talking about over there?" asked Jackson, walking up to them.

"Scott knows something about Derek!" Stiles exclaimed, gleefully poking at Scott with his finger and feeling really immature about it, but also not really caring.

Scott rolled his eyes and threw his head back in annoyance as the others drew near.

"You know stuff about Derek?" Danny asked, eyebrows raised.

"Spill the beans, McCall," Jackson demanded. "What's up with that guy? Why is he such an ass?"

Scott hung his head down and huffed out a sigh. "You guys suck."

Stiles slung an arm around Scott's shoulders, "Scotty boy, friend, pal, roommate, bro. You know something, and you're gonna tell us what it is, and we're not leaving this bell tower until you do."

"Come on, Scott!" Lydia said, joining in. "Just tell us! We won't tell anybody."

Even Allison had a conspiratorial smile on her face.

"Fine!" Scott grunted. "Geez!"

Lydia laughed and clapped her hands together and leaned forward a little.

"It was during our first year here," Scott began, "and Derek started dating this fourth-year. I actually got to know her pretty well, because I worked in the library during my first semester, and she was, like, always there."

"I know what a pool is," Stiles replied, acidly. "What do you mean, _always there_ ," Lydia asked. "We're all, _always there_."

"No," Scott said, "I mean _always_ there. Like, I think she was obsessed with her grades or something, like OCD. She was always the first one there in the morning, and the last person to leave at night. She had to get straight A's! At first, I thought she was kind of nice, you know, like I would joke around with her a little every time she came up to the circulation desk for something. I was a first-year, so I didn't really know anything about her, but then I started hearing rumors about some of the crazy things she would do. Like one time, she got a B on a paper and just started yelling at Dr. Ashby in the middle of class."

"But, Ashby teaches Spirituality," Danny said, confused. "He's like the nicest professor on campus. That's like kicking a puppy."

"I know!" Scott said. "But, she was crazy! At the end of my first semester, I was taking the Old Testament final on the second floor of Heidelberg Hall. The window was open and suddenly I heard someone screaming, and I knew it was her, 'cuz I recognized her voice, only the sound wasn't coming from the parking lot. It was coming from the bottom of the hill, where her apartment was. _I was on the second floor of Heidelberg, and I could hear her yelling from the bottom of the hill!_ Who yells like that? I don't know why, but I always had the impression that she was on her phone, yelling at Derek that day. And, she was like known for getting into fights with professors, slamming all of her stuff on the table, and storming out of the classroom. _Everyone_ talks about it, like all the time!"

"Yeah, so what?" Jackson said. "So, Derek was dating a lunatic. What does that have to do with him being an ass?"

"I don't know anything for sure," Scott said, "but she was in our Church History class. I heard some people say that she got a copy of Derek's final paper from his computer, made some changes, put her name on it, and then turned it in. So, of course, Derek didn't know, and he turned in his paper, and then they were both called into the dean's office."

"That doesn't make any sense," Lydia said. "She had to have known she was gonna get caught. That's stupid; why would she even try that?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she went off her meds?"

"She was on medication?" Stiles asked.

"That's what everybody says," Scott answered.

"But, what happened," asked Allison. "How is he still here if they think he cheated."

Scott shrugged again. "I don't know, but Kate left pretty soon after that. I guess they let Derek stay, but he didn't get credit for the class, which is why he's taking it again with you all right now. He hasn't really trusted a lot of people after that."

"Well, if someone in seminary stabs you in the back, I guess it would kind of change your view of people in general," Danny mused.

Allison cocked her head to the side. "Wait a second. What did you say her name was?"

"Kate?" Scott replied, looking nervous. "Kate Argent?"

"Oh my God!" Allison exclaimed, her eyes wide as she covered her mouth with her hands.

"What?" asked Scott. "What's wrong?"

Allison was shaking her head a little. "That's what Dr. Ponzio wouldn't tell me."

"What wouldn't she tell you?" asked Lydia, looking worried now.

"Kate," Allison said. "Kate Argent is my aunt."

"What?!" exclaimed Scott.

"Oh my God!" Stiles exclaimed, gaping at her.

"I have to go," Allison gasped, turning and quickly climbing down the ladder. 

When she reached the bottom, they could all hear her footsteps as she ran.

"Allison!" Scott cried out. "Allison! Wait!" he yelled, as he quickly disappeared through the trap door to chase after her.

"Awkward," Stiles drawled out, obnoxiously.

That earned him a swat from Lydia. "Real mature, Stiles."

* * *

Stiles was by himself in the student lounge. He was sitting in an armchair, wrapped up in a blanket because the heat _still_ hadn't been turned on, and the student lounge was getting colder every day. He was flipping through flashcards in the desperate hope that someone from his Church History class was going to show up to study with him. Their midterm was in a week, so he had tried to get his regular study group together, but apparently everyone had more important things to do. 

Danny hadn't been in class all week; something about the flu. Stiles guessed he couldn't really blame him for that. 

Scott and Allison, on the other hand, were on a double date with Jackson and Lydia. Not that all of his friends coupling off made him feel like a fifth wheel or anything whenever they were all hanging out, he thought bitterly. Stiles frowned at his flashcards filled with historical names and dates that he was sure he was going to forget the second the midterm was over. Whatever, if they didn't care about their grades, then he wasn't going to worry for them.

He heard the door opening and turned his head to see who it was, making the briefest, tiniest, seriously like most inconsequential eye contact with Derek _freaking_ Hale. He whipped his head back around, looking at his flashcard with the intensity of a thousand suns, as the hairs on the back of his neck inexplicably began to rise. He felt kind of sorry for Derek, especially after what Scott had told them in the bell tower, but that didn't make Derek any less scary of a person to be around, and Stiles, for one, did not relish the idea of being the only other person in the student lounge besides Derek _freaking_ Hale for the next few hours.

He slowly moved to put his flashcards into his newly acquired flashcard holder, and tried to casually glance around the room to see where Derek had decided to settle, flailing and almost falling out of his chair when he saw that Derek was standing directly behind him. His flashcards went everywhere.

"Oh my God!" Stiles yelped. "Don't do that!"

Derek actually looked contrite. "Sorry," he said, stooping down pick up Stiles' flashcards.

Stiles gave him a confused look before getting off his chair to also pick up his flashcards. Grabbing the last one from underneath the coffee table, he stood up to find Derek holding out the flashcards he had picked up for Stiles.

"Thanks" Stiles mumbled.

Derek looked shifty. Stiles swallowed.

"Did you need something?" Stiles ventured, when it became apparent that Derek wasn't going to say anything.

Derek met his eyes then, and Stiles almost took an involuntary step back, startled by what he saw. He hadn't really spent much time with Derek, in point of fact, had been actively avoiding him, so he had never really gotten a good close-up look at his strong-jawed and slightly stubbled face. Sure, even from a distance, he could objectively see how beautiful the man was. They were of a height, Derek maybe an inch or so taller, but the fourth-year was muscled like an Olympic class wrestler, and Stiles looked more like a long distance runner. Derek's eyes were a pale bluish-green, with a bit of brown around the pupil. Stiles guessed he would describe them as hazel. What was most startling, however, was the sense of loneliness he found there. He already knew that Derek had few close friends at the school. Most of the student body tended to keep their distance.

"I heard you talking to your friends after class about having a study group tonight," Derek began gruffly, seemingly unsure of himself, not looking Stiles in the eye at first. "I was wondering if I could study with you."

"Ahhh," Stiles said, stalling so he could restart his brain. He slowly sank back down into his chair. "Don't you normally study with Greenberg?"

Derek rolled his eyes and said, "Greenberg's an idiot."

Stiles scrunched up his face. "No he's not! He's always messing up the curve because of how high his grades are!"

Derek sighed. "I guess what I meant to say is that Greenberg is _annoying_. I can't study with him anymore, and I don't do well when I study by myself." He narrowed his eyes at Stiles. "So, can I study with you, or not?" he asked, irritably.

Stiles gaped a few times like a fish out of water before frantically gesturing at the couch. "Sure! Not a problem! I love studying with people!"

Derek looked at him like he had lost his mind, but slung his backpack onto the couch anyway. He started walking towards the coffeemaker. "I'm gonna make some coffee. You want some?"

Stiles gawked. Was Derek offering him _coffee_? "Uh, sure!" Stiles managed before the pause became awkward.

He watched as Derek measured out the coffee grounds, and filled the carafe with water from the sink. Scott was never going to believe this.

Derek finished what he was doing and sat down on the couch, staring at Stiles intently. 

"Do you want to use your flashcards, or mine?" Derek asked.

"Well, mine are already out," Stiles said.

Derek nodded, and held out his hand, obviously expecting Stiles to give him half of the cards. They soon settled into an easy rhythm of asking and answering each other's questions, occasionally getting into little debates any time Derek didn't agree with one of the answers Stiles had come up with for his flashcard. When the coffee was done, they both got up to pour themselves a cup, adding sugar and creamer to their preference, and then bringing the steaming mugs back to the space where they had been camped out.

After a while, the flashcards disappeared, and they just started to talk, Stiles making Derek laugh with crazy stories about his cop dad, and figuring out what kinds of things they each liked to do. They discovered a mutual love of the show Firefly, _cancelled before it's time!_ , running, and Michelle's, the local ice cream shop that made all of their own ice cream, with local organic ingredients. Every once in a while, Derek would give him a soft, curious look, but Stiles didn't let himself analyze those too much, instead focusing on how comfortable he felt around Derek, and wishing that they had gotten to know each other sooner.

Half an hour later, they were both on their second cup of coffee, and they heard a group of people laughing and talking as they approached from the other side of the door. They booth looked up as Scott, Allison, Lydia and Jackson walked into the room, their jovial banter abruptly ending when they saw Derek sitting with Stiles.

Stiles glanced at Derek, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with being the center of attention, then back to his friends. 

"Hi guys!" he said, just a little too loudly. "What are you doing here?"

"We came to study for the history midterm," Jackson said, eyeing Derek suspiciously.

"Well," Stiles said, gesturing at Derek. "Derek and I were just taking a break. There's not much coffee left, so if you want some, you'll need to make more."

Scott gave Stiles a curious and confused look before kissing Allison goodnight. He waved goodbye to Stiles as he left, and Stiles waved back. Jackson and Lydia settled into the loveseat opposite the couch that Derek was sitting on while Alison went to the coffee maker to brew a new batch.

"So, who's ready for Church History!" Stiles exclaimed with false excitement as he passed out his flash cards. "Good times!" Everyone groaned to Stiles' overly enthusiastic nodding. 

They studied for another hour, and then Jackson and Allison decided to call it quits. As the night wore on, the methods that Stiles, Lydia and Derek came up with to try to remember the facts on the flashcards became increasingly ridiculous, until they were spending more time coming up mnemonic devices than actually learning anything.

"Okay, wait," Stiles said, holding out his hands after listening to Derek explain, for the second time, the sentence he had come up with for the last flashcard. "Where's Waldo was in the Middle Ages with evangelicals, heretics and annihilists?"

Derek had a very silly grin on his face. "Where's Waldo? In the Middle Ages with the evangelicals, 12 heretics and 17 annihilists!" He was practically doing jazz hands.

Stiles and Lydia both fell into their chairs laughing. 

"How exactly is that supposed to help us?" Stiles gasped as he laughed.

Derek was laughing too, but he did his best to wheeze out an explanation between swallows of air. "Waldo is the Waldesians," laugh, "which was an evangelical movement," pant, "in the Middle Ages," gasp, "They were persecuted as heretics," wheeze, " in the 12th century." He took a quick breath and squealed out the last of it, "and were almost annihilated in the 17th!"

This only made Stiles and Lydia laugh harder.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Stiles rasped, clutching at his sides.

"I know!" Derek said, laughing harder, falling face first into the cushions of the couch.

Lydia sat up and dabbed at her eyes. "It's the ketones," she said, fanning at her face with her hand.

"The what?" Stiles asked, turning to her lazily from his slouching position in his chair. He was holding onto his stomach because it was hurting from laughing so much.

"Ketones," Lydia said, slumping. "It's an alcohol that your brain uses for energy after it's used up all the sugar. That's why you get punchy sometimes when you stay up late studying without eating anything." She sighed and smiled at them. "It's like being drunk."

Derek rolled onto his side so that he was facing them, a tired grin on his face. "I guess this means we should probably go to sleep?"

Lydia chuckled. "Yeah. Well, _I_ am anyway." She started gathering her things.

"I'll walk back with you," Stiles said, standing up. "Are you coming, Derek?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I live on the other side of the campus, though, so you don't have to wait for me."

Stiles smiled and nodded. "Okay. Good night, Derek."

"Good night," Derek replied, giving him a comfortable smile. "Good night, Lydia."

"Good night!" she replied, with a happy little wave.

Stiles and Lydia walked out of the student lounge, leaving Derek to turn off the lights and lock up.

"I have to say, I was a little surprised to see you studying with Derek, of all people, when we got back," Lydia said, when they were halfway down the hill. "But, he was actually really nice!"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, he was."

* * *

"You and Derek have never really gotten along, have you?" Melissa asked Scott, peering at him over the rims of her glasses.

"No," Scott said, looking more than a little miserable.

"Why is that, do you think?" she asked.

"I don't know," Scott said with a shrug. "I guess is goes back to the whole Kate Argent thing."

"What do you mean?" Melissa asked, chiding herself for sounding so startled.

"I don't know, I guess it's a guilty by association thing?" Scott ventured. "Because, Kate and I were friends."

"I didn't know you were friends with Kate Argent," Melissa replied, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Well, I don’t know if I'd say we were actually friends," Scott backtracked. "More like acquaintances, I guess. We talked to each other a lot in the library; I guess Derek might have seen us talking a few times. And, then that whole thing happened in our Church History class, and Derek hasn't really talked to me very much since then. And now, he's stealing my best friend," Scott ended with a scowl.

Melissa had to suppress a smile. "Do you mean Stiles? Is Stiles your best friend? You've only known him for a few months."

Scott squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, we just kind of just got really close. He's funny, and we hang out a lot. He likes video games."

Melissa smiled at him. "So, what do you mean Derek is stealing him from you?"

"They're together all the time, now," Scott said, throwing his hands up. "Derek comes over and they watch videos in Stiles' room. They always study together, too."

"Well," said Melissa, "why don't you hang out with them?"

"They mostly watch Firefly, I think." Scott answered. "I never really got into Firefly. And, I already took Church History."

"Look, Scott," Melissa said, pulling her glasses off. "I've been your counselor for over three years now, and if you repeat this to anyone, I will deny it 'til my dying breath. But, you have always been one of my favorites. You are a sweet and honest guy, you have decent grades and you don't cause trouble. But, it seems to me that you sometimes have a hard time connecting to people. I seems to me that Stiles has somehow managed to get past those walls that you've built up around yourself, and now you're afraid to lose him, because he's the first person you actually let in, in a long time."

"There's Allison," Scott said, perking up. "I'm really close to Allison."

"Yes," Melissa replied, sitting back, "I suppose you got lucky with this first year class, finding _two_ students that you could really get close to. But, the students in your own class, the third years, the second years, you never got close to any of them. Why is that?"

Scott twiddled his thumbs, thinking for a while.

"Look," Melissa said, putting her glasses back on and closing his file. "You don't need to have all of the answers right away. But, I want you to think about it, okay? We'll talk more about it next time. I'm scheduling you for another appointment in a month."

"Okay," Scott said, semi-lost in thought. He stood up and put his backpack on. "Thanks, Melissa."

She smiled up at him. "You have a good day, Scott."

* * *

Stiles was practically vibrating, he was so nervous. Professor Bohen was returning their midterm exams, and Stiles was afraid to get his back. He watched as the professor handed Lydia's exam back to her. She took one look at her grade, and smiled brilliantly, immediately tucking the exam into her binder. Slowly breathing out in a very self-satisfied way, she folded her hands together, and calmly waited for class to start. No surprise there, Stiles thought. Lydia was brilliant and would most likely be valedictorian of their graduating class in four years.

His eyes widened as Bohen walked towards him, holding out an exam. Stiles took a deep breath as the professor handed the test to him. He got a B+. Stiles made a face at it, like he had eaten something rotten. He guessed he could live with a B+, but he honestly thought he had studied enough to do better than a B+.

Professor Bohen handed the next exam to Derek, who was sitting next to Stiles. Stiles turned to see Derek nod and smile at his exam.

"What did you get?" asked Stiles. 

Derek turned to him, looking like he was trying to figure out an appropriate response. "Don't you think it's kind of juvenile to ask someone what they got on their test?"

"Yes," Stiles said, matter-of-factly. "Now, tell me what you got!"

Derek smirked at him, and angled his paper so that Stiles could see the grade for himself.

"You got an A!" Stiles hissed. "We studied together for this! With _my_ flashcards! How did you get an A?"

Derek shrugged. "I test well?" he replied with a smug look on his face. "Why, what did you get?"

Stiles showed him.

"You got a B+," Derek deadpanned. "What's wrong with that? There's nothing wrong with a B+."

Stiles narrowed his gaze at him. "I don't get B's."

Derek looked forward and sucked in some air between his teeth. "Well, you do now." 

He turned to Stiles again, and saw the gape-mouthed affronted horror on his face. Derek rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"Don't worry about it," he said, reaching over to give Stiles' shoulder a squeeze. "A B+ is almost an A, so as long as you do well on the everything else in class, you'll be fine. I'll help you study for the final."

"You helped me study for the midterm," Stiles said, as if it was Derek's fault he had gotten a B.

Derek chuckled softly under his breath, but otherwise didn't respond.

"Does anyone have any questions about their exam?" Professor Bohen asked.

No one raised their hands.

"All right," he continued, "then let's get started."

After class, Stiles walked out with Derek.

"Hey," said Stiles, "you wanna come over and watch some Firefly? I have some rocky road from Michelle's we can eat while we watch!"

Derek pretended to think about it for a moment, before smiling. "Sure, we deserve a post-midterm break."

"Hell yeah, we do!" exclaimed Stiles. 

He suddenly remembered his friend Heather from undergrad telling him that Firefly was one of the best things you could use to lure a guy into your room. Stiles never really thought that the advice applied to himself, but it seemed like there could be an outside chance that might be changing. 

A few days after he had moved in, he asked Scott if he wanted to watch it with him, but Scott had told him that he had tried to watch it before, and hadn't even made it through the first episode. Scott had come to the conclusion that it wasn't really his kind of show. Stiles was of the opinion that there were two kinds of people in the world: those who liked Firefly, and those who had not seen it. Obviously, Scott hadn't given it a fair shot, and Stiles was determined to rectify that one day.

"What episode are we on?" Derek asked.

"I think we're on 'Out of Gas,'" Stiles answered.

Derek looked stricken. "Oh, I hate that episode! I mean, I love it, but I hate it! It's so sad." Derek made a frowny face.

"But, it has a happy ending!" Stiles said excitedly. "Besides, that's what the ice cream is for. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you cried on my shoulder."

"What makes you think I'm gonna cry?" asked Derek.

Stiles just shook his head sadly at him. "It's cute that your fourth-year tough-guy façade is so important to you, but _everyone_ cries when they watch 'Out of Gas.' Look at this!" Stiles said, pointing at his eye. "I'm tearing up just thinking about it!"

Derek laughed, and continued walking, leading the way even though they were going to Stiles and Scott's apartment. When they got there, Stiles popped the DVD in and pulled the ice cream from the fridge, as Derek made himself at home by plopping down on his stomach on Stiles' bed. He raised himself up on his elbows and fiddled with the remote control. 

Stiles sat on the bed next to him with the ice cream. He didn't bother getting any bowls, and instead just handed Derek a spoon. They could both eat the ice cream out of the carton.

They watched silently, hardly daring to move or breathe, as the episode opened with the captain stumbling and falling, his blood dripping from a wound in his stomach. Once the opening credits started, they each got a spoonful of ice cream and happily bobbed their heads to the country inspired theme song as images of gunslingers, horses and spaceships moved across the screen.

"I know we haven't been hanging out that long," Stiles said, swallowing his ice cream and digging at the carton for more, "but I swear the only things I've ever seen you put into your mouth are ice cream, curly fries and coffee. How do you stay in such good shape?"

"This may be hard for you to believe, but I do actually eat other things," Derek answered, raising an eyebrow at him as he scooped up more ice cream. "Also, the school has a gym. We could work out together sometime, if you want."

Stiles almost choked on his ice cream thinking about a sweaty Derek Hale. Derek smiled at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Do you need me to get you some water?"

"I'm fine," Stiles croaked out around the ice cream in his mouth. "Just watch your show!" he said, gesturing furiously at the TV.

Derek smirked and went back to watching Firefly. They talked and ate ice cream as the episode went on, both admitting that it was unfortunate that Inara and Mal never got the chance to kiss, because CPR doesn't count. Then, they had a brief debate about who the hottest character on the show was. Derek said it was a toss up between Saffron and Inara. Stiles said Kaylee.

"You know, that red button that Wash rigs up so Mal can call everyone back to the ship?" Stiles said, pointing when said button was on the screen.

"Yeah," Derek replied.

"The guy that plays Wash actually stole it from the set and gave it to Joss Whedon. He said it was so Joss could call them all back whenever he figured out a way to make more Firefly."

"Really?" asked Derek. He looked up at Stiles with so much hope in his eyes that if Stiles was a braver man, would have made him kiss Derek right then and there.

"Yeah," Stiles answered.

Derek turned back to the TV, and Stiles pretended not to notice when he wiped at his eyes. After the episode was over, Derek sat up.

"Looks like I owe you a carton of ice cream," Derek said, holding the empty carton out for Stiles. 

Stiles grabbed it from him and threw it away. "You wanna go down to the ice cream shoppe?" 

Derek smirked. "You totally said that with the extra 'pe' at the end of shop in your head, didn't you?"

Stiles blushed. "You have no proof of that, and no amount of torture will ever make me admit it."

Derek chuckled. "I think I'll take a rain check," he said, gathering up his binder and books. "I still need to finish my sermon for preaching class tomorrow. Do you want to go on Friday?"

Stiles decided to go for a casual shrug. "Sure, I'm not doing anything on Friday."

Derek smiled at him. "Okay. It's a date then."

There were some days that Stiles really hated his complexion, and today was definitely one of them. He was blushing again, and this time he could tell he was blushing a lot. He pressed his lips into a firm line and gave Derek a quick nod. "It's a date."

* * *

Stiles sat down across from Derek with his double scoop cone of honey lavender vanilla, a perennial favorite, and the flavor of the day, basil, because he was feeling adventurous. That, and he had a tiny sample spoon of it before ordering, and it was heaven! Derek had gotten a bowl instead of a cone, with three scoops: Mexican chocolate, wild raspberry, and Tahitian vanilla, his own version of Neapolitan, which he literally got like every single time.

Stiles loved watching the focused determination with which Derek ate, even ice cream. It wasn't that he ate particularly fast, he was just so focused, like he had to make sure it wouldn't jump up and run away if he wasn't paying attention.

"So," Stiles said, licking at his ice cream, "why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Huh?" Derek replied, looking up at him abruptly with a confused look on his face.

Stiles laughed, ducking quickly to lick at some melted ice cream before it dripped. "I'm kidding," he said. "It was a joke? You know, 'cuz you said this was a date, and that's always the first question people ask."

Derek's face softened into a smile. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Stiles shrugged, licking at his ice cream again. "Tell me whatever you want," he said, waving dismissively. "Tell me something I don't know about you yet."

Derek thought about it for a minute, then gave him a sly smile. "My great great great great grandfather is Montgomery Hale," he said, counting off the "greats" on his fingers as he went.

Stiles froze in the act of taking a bite of his ice cream, his eyes wide with his mouth hovering over his ice cream cone. He lowered the cone and squinted at Derek. "No he's not!" he exclaimed incredulously.

Derek chuckled. "Yes he is! I'm serious!"

"You're telling me that you're related to the man who was the founder of our school?" Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded and took a bite of his ice cream. "That's why I have the same name as Hale Chapel."

Stiles' eyes went unfocused. "I haven't really gone to chapel that much since orientation week," he said slowly, as if he were talking to himself. "I guess I never really thought about it, or if I did, I just assumed it was a coincidence." His eyes focused on Derek again. "Does everyone know?"

"I don't really talk about it," he answered with a shrug. "I guess most of the faculty and staff knows, maybe some of the students."

"Wait a minute," Stiles said, looking intensely into Derek's eyes. "Is your family like super rich or something? Are you like a millionaire?"

Derek smiled at him, his shoulders moving like he was laughing to himself. "I guess you could say we're well off. I didn't grow up in a mansion or anything. Montgomery Hale spent a lot of his fortune on the school, but no one really knows what happened to the rest of it. I heard a rumor one time that he actually hid a lot of his money in the school somewhere."

"Like, buried treasure?" Stiles asked excitedly.

Derek laughed. "I guess. The rumor's been going around for over a hundred years now, but no one's ever found anything, so I doubt there's any truth to it. Anyway, the point is that he didn't really leave an inheritance to any of his surviving relatives. I guess we still have the legacy of his name. My tuition's basically covered; so I suppose the Hale name still carries some weight around here. 

"I don't really know that much about him, but everyone says that he was actually kind of a bastard, so he built the school as kind of a penance, or to redeem himself, or something. I mean, how can God keep you out of heaven if you build a whole seminary, right? So now, he's buried in Hale Chapel for all of eternity, or as long as the school is around, I guess."

"What?!" Stiles exclaimed. "There's a dead body in the chapel?"

"Yes," Derek replied, like the answer should have been obvious, and Stiles should have already known about it, which, to be fair, he should have. "You just said you've been inside of it."

Stiles had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Only a couple of times," he answered meekly.

"Come on," Derek said, spooning the last of his ice cream into his mouth. "I'll show it to you. I have keys 'cuz I work for maintenance, sometimes."

He stood up, as did Stiles, who was still working on his ice cream. Michelle's was only a few blocks away from the school, and it was an easy five-minute walk. Stiles was finished with his ice cream by the time they arrived. 

Derek unlocked the huge door, its wooden planks literally held together with bands of iron, and pushed it open, leading the way inside. He flicked on the lights, and veered to the left, where the crypt was. Stiles held on to the top of the gate that separated the crypt from the rest of the chapel, and looked down at the marble rectangle that he assumed marked where the body was buried. The inscription read: Montgomery Hale 1823 – 1891 A.D.

"How did I not notice this?" Stiles whispered in awe as he stared at the marble bust at the other end of the crypt and the two brilliantly colored stained glass windows on either side of it, throwing cheerful sparks of light into the small alcove.

"I guess you weren't looking for it," Derek replied, looking up at the carvings on the walls and ceiling of the crypt. "He was a rich man when he built the school, obviously, but he died poor. And, alone."

"That's sad," Stiles whispered. "On the bright side, there aren't a lot of people in the world who have a whole crypt and chapel to themselves as their final resting place."

Derek nodded, laughing a little. "I suppose that's true." He squinted and looked around at the empty chapel. "Come on," he said, tugging at Stiles' shirt. "Let's go back to your room and watch more Firefly. This place is creepy when no one else is here."

"What!?" Stiles exclaimed, a gleeful look of surprise on his face. "Don't tell me you believe in ghosts, now!"

Derek gave him a knowing smile. "Well, some people say the school is haunted."

"Oh?" Stiles said, creeping towards Derek with his hands curled in front of him like a cartoon zombie. "Does the ghost of Montgomery Hale walk the halls of St. Anselm's at night?" he asked with his ghost story voice.

"You never know," Derek said. "I've heard some pretty strange things about that student lounge you like to hang out in so much. Alone."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles asked, his voice challenging. "Like what?"

"Like one night," Derek said softly, getting really close to Stiles so that their noses were almost touching, "some people were studying up there, and all of a sudden, the TV turned on. All by itself."

"Spooky," Stiles said, glancing down at Derek's lips before he could stop himself.

"Heck yeah, it's spooky!" Derek said abruptly, grabbing Stiles shirt and pulling him towards the door. "Just like this empty ass chapel!"

Stiles laughed and stumbled after him, sparing a glance for the marble bust of Montgomery Hale. He didn't believe for a second that the ghost of Montgomery Hale was haunting the halls of St. Anselm's, and he doubted very much that Derek did either, but there was something vaguely creepy about the statue's eyes. Like they were always looking at you, no matter where you were standing. 

* * *

"You're more than halfway through your first semester!" Melissa said excitedly. "How does it feel?"

"Good!" Stiles replied, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, grad school is tough, but I think I'm doing okay. I'll be going home soon for Thanksgiving, so that's exciting. I can't wait to see my dad."

Melissa frowned. "What about your mom?"

"She passed away when I was little," Stiles said, his voice touched more by nostalgia than by sadness.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Melissa replied.

"It was a long time ago," Stiles said, looking down and picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "I'm surprised my dad never married anyone else, actually."

Melissa tilted her head to the side. "Do you want your dad to marry someone else?"

"If he met the right person and she made him happy, then yeah," Stiles answered, nodding his head. "I mean, you know, as long as she was good for him. I would finally have someone to help me make sure that he eats right," he said with a laugh.

"He doesn't eat right?" she asked.

"He has high cholesterol and high blood pressure," Stiles answered. "The doctor's always getting on him to eat more vegetables and stuff. My dad gets really stubborn about it sometimes."

Melissa gave him a melancholy smile. "It sounds like you really care about him." 

"Well," Stiles said with a shrug, "he's the only parent I have left."

"It's a good thing he has you to watch out for him, then," she commented.

Stiles nodded and Melissa made a note in his file.

"So, how's everything else going?" she asked. "Are you making lots of new friends?"

"Yeah, Scott's like my best bud now!" Stiles said, with a big grin. "And, I've gotten pretty close to some of the people in my class: Lydia, Allison, Danny, even Jackson. And, I've actually been hanging out a lot with Derek Hale, lately, which I guess is kind of weird, because it seemed like he didn't like me at first, but now it's like he's always there!"

"Well, that's good," Melissa said, smiling. "He could probably use a friend."

"Yeah!" Stiles agreed, nodding. "We actually have a lot of stuff in common, surprisingly. I like talking to him."

Melissa nodded, not saying anything.

"Like, a lot of people probably wouldn't know this, but he's actually really funny," Stiles continued. "He has this really dry sense of humor, and he's actually, like, really nice, sometimes."

"Uh-huh," Melissa said, tilting her head to the side.

"Sometimes, when were hanging out, he'll just give me one of these looks," Stiles said, his eyes unfocused as he tried to picture it in his mind. "Like he's about to open up, or something, like maybe for that second, he might be super vulnerable, but then it's gone!" he said, snapping his fingers and looking up at her. "Just like that. Like, one second he seems like he might be ready to just bare his soul, and the next, nothing."

Melissa squinted her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," Stiles said, leaning back into the couch. "I guess I never really thought about it until now. I guess I wish he _would_ open up like that sometimes? I mean, I love hanging out with him, but it just seems like we don't really talk about anything important. Like, he's graduating this year, and I have no idea what he wants to do after that."

Melissa furrowed her brow. "Have you asked him?"

"No," Stiles admitted. "But, I just kind of figured it would've come up by now."

They were both quiet for a moment. "Is it important to you that Derek opens up about these kinds of things?" Melissa asked, eventually.

Stiles shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. I mean, that's what friends do, right?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"I mean, the guy doesn’t seem to have any other friends," Stiles said. "I hope he's confiding in _someone_."

Melissa nodded and was quiet for a while before commenting, "You seem to be pretty concerned about him."

Stiles looked down and took a few deep breaths. Melissa could feel the tension building in the room. She sat quietly, giving Stiles space to say or not say whatever he was thinking.

"I think I might be attracted to him," Stiles blurted out, suddenly.

Melissa blinked a few times. She honestly hadn't seen that one coming. "Oh?" she said.

Stiles was bouncing his legs nervously and chewing his bottom lip. "Is that okay?"

"Do you think it's okay?" Melissa asked.

Stiles rubbed his head with his hands and took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said. "I think it's okay." He looked into Melissa's eyes, almost challenging her to contradict him.

Melissa shrugged and smiled at him, shaking her head a little. "Then it's okay."

Stiles' eyebrows drew together. "That's it?"

Melissa sighed and leaned forward. "I can't tell you how you should feel about someone. Have you ever been attracted to another man before?"

"Not really," Stiles said.

"But, you've bee attracted to women before?" 

"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, nodding significantly. "Lots of times."

"So, do you think of yourself as bisexual?" Melissa asked.

"I don't know," he said, looking confused. "I guess I kind of have to, right? Since I think I'm attracted to Derek?"

Melissa leaned back. "Human sexuality is complicated," she said. "These things aren't always so cut and dry."

"So, what do I do?" Stiles asked.

Melissa had to stop herself from laughing. "Do you feel like you need to do something?"

Stiles blinked at her, then looked down. His eyes started to wander as the silence dragged.

"Do you think he might feel the same way about you?" she asked, when it became apparent he wasn't going to answer her question.

His shoulders slumped. "I have no idea," he said, sounding a little sad.

Melissa smiled and leaned forward. "At the risk of giving relationship advice, why don't you just wait and see what happens? You seem a little unsure about all of this. Maybe you need to give yourself some time, and let things develop as they…develop," she concluded, for lack of a better word.

Stiles blinked a few times and then started nodding slowly. "I think you're right. I mean, I can't just tell him, 'cuz that could totally freak him out, and I like having him as a friend, you know? I mean, I don’t want to ruin our friendship." He smirked and suddenly covered his face with his hands. "Oh my God! I can't believe I just said that! I totally sound like a rom com cliché!"

He stood up suddenly. "Okay, I need to go before I start sounding even more pathetic than I already do."

Melissa's eyes went wide in surprise and she sat back in her chair. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Dr. Ponzio," Stiles said. "You have given me a lot to think about, and I am very grateful. Thank you very much; I'll be fine." And, he left her office.

"Bye," Melissa said softly, to the suddenly empty couch.

* * *

Stiles was sitting on his bed with his computer in his lap, while Derek sat at his desk, reading for his Ethics class. After checking his favorite tumblr tags, Twitter, and then YouTube for anything new or interesting, he opened up his email, and was not surprised to find a new email from the school. They literally got emails from the school like every day, and sometimes, Stiles even read them.

This one looked important. It was from the president, the Rev. Dr. Gerard S. Silver, so he opened it.

Dear students of St. Anselm's School of Religion,

This email is in regards to the decisions that have been made by the Board of Trustees concerning the financial situation of SASR. Some of you may have heard that the school has been suffering from financial difficulties. It is our hope that this email will answer most of your questions regarding that situation. For those of you who have further concerns after reading this, or wish to discuss the matter further, I will make myself available in the student lounge this Thursday from 1:30 – 2:30 pm to answer any of your questions.

Procuring funding for SASR is an ongoing effort. Each year, we depend on the generous donations from alumni and the community, as well as support from the wider church, in order to maintain operations. However, the largest percentage of the resources that are required to run this institution comes from our endowment.

The recession has taken a heavy toll on the endowment, and efforts are underway to restore it. In the meantime, the Board of Trustees has decided to take several fundraising and cost-cutting measures that may affect certain aspects our day-to-day operations of SASR.

The Board has decided to sell all of the land property that exists outside of the main footprint of the school. This will happen in phases over the next ten years. This means that virtually all current students will experience little to no disruption in what they have come to expect of life at SASR.

The school is also looking into the possibility of offering more night classes, as well as online classes, in order to attract a more diverse student population. It is the hope that the tuition brought in by these additional students will help to prevent further cost-cutting measures in the future.

These, however, are only stopgap measures. The reality is that the school is spending more money than it is taking in, which is an untenable position. The final part of the Board of Trustee's cost-cutting plan is to cease operations at the SASR extension in Portland, OR. The Portland extension is one of the largest parts of the total budget for the school, and while this decision was not easy, it is necessary.

These changes are required if SASR is going to survive for the foreseeable future. We understand that these decisions may be upsetting for some of you, but please understand that these decisions were not made lightly and that the students of SASR are our first priority. Even with these cost-cutting measures in place, the future of SASR is far from certain. If we are unable to increase our revenue stream, further cost-cutting measures will be required, and it is possible that SASR may have to shut its doors.

Please keep the school in your prayers.

Sincerely,

Rev. Dr. Gerard S. Silver  
President  
St. Anselm's School of Religion

Stiles quickly looked up after he finished reading the email, his mouth open in shock. This was the first that he had heard that the school was in actual trouble. Like all of the students at SASR, he had heard rumors, but the rumors seemed to indicate a small financial rough patch, not anything near as serious as what the email described. Derek, oblivious to what Stiles had just read, calmly flipped to the next page of his textbook. 

"Oh my God," Stiles said slowly, causing Derek's head to perk up. "Have you checked your email?"

"Not since this morning," Derek replied, looking concerned. "Why?"

Stiles scooted across his bed, and handed his laptop to Derek so he could read it.

Watching Derek's expression grow more and more horrified as he read caused goose bumps to rise all over Stiles' body.

"Holy shit!" Derek exhaled softly, looking up at Stiles.

"So, this is bad, right?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded silently.

"How bad?"

"Well," Derek said, handing Stiles' computer back to him, "he says it right in the email. The school might close."

"But, even if it did, that wouldn't be for like 20 years, right?" Stiles asked.

"Maybe," Derek said. "But, if the school did close 20 years from now, how would you feel about that?"

"Pretty crappy, I guess," Stiles answered. "I like this school."

"Yeah," Derek replied. "And, that's assuming the school doesn't close sooner."

Stiles read the email again and sighed. "It's too bad we can't find the money that your great great great however many greats grandfather hid here. I bet it would be enough to save the school. How much money do you think it was, anyway?"

Derek leveled a look at him that told Stiles all he needed to know about what Derek thought of their chances of finding Montgomery Hale's missing fortune. 

"Seriously?" Derek asked. "That's your solution to the school's money problems?"

Stiles shrugged. "Hey, I'm surviving on student loans over here. The only place I know to look for money is in fantasies and fairytales."

Derek frowned. "This school is my family's legacy. That would suck if it closed."

"How many Hales are there, anyway?" Stiles asked.

"Not very many, actually," Derek replied, thinking about it. "I don't really have any extended family besides my Uncle Peter, and he's not a Hale. So, it's just my parents, my sister Laura, and me. Why?"

"Nothing," Stiles said, looking embarrassed and disappointed at the same time. "I was just kind of wondering if maybe you had a rich aunt or something."

"Nope," Derek said, "This will all be up to President Silver and his fundraising abilities."

"There's the Phone-a-thon next week!" Stiles said, perking up. "Didn't I hear something about that?"

"Yeah," Derek replied. "But, we usually don't get a lot money from the Phone-a-thon. It's more like a way to make sure the alumni still feel connected to the school, even though I'm pretty sure students calling every year asking for money gets old really fast."

"Well, maybe this year will be different," Stiles argued hopefully. "Maybe this year, if they know the school's in trouble, we'll get more pledges 'cuz they want to help save the school."

"Maybe," Derek allowed, as Stiles went back to looking things up on his laptop.

That's just the way first-years are, Derek thought to himself with a sigh, always bright-eyed, full of hope and energy. He remembered when his class first arrived. Scott, Erica, Boyd and Isaac had wanted to form a quidditch team! It had been their hope that they could play against quidditch teams from some of the other nearby seminaries. Derek had looked up videos for college quidditch leagues on YouTube after he'd heard them planning and discovered that it was indeed a real thing. It was a ridiculous thing, but nevertheless, a real thing. That dream had quickly evaporated in the harsh light of Biblical Hebrew, Introduction to Old Testament, and Church History. The unfortunate reality was that there just wasn't a lot of time for extracurricular activities.

In the class that came two years after them, there was a young woman named Shantal who had wanted to design a mascot for the school, since they didn't have one. She wanted to get shirts, hoodies and travel mugs all made with the new mascot and school logo on them. That never happened.

Now, Derek thought, Stiles was probably fantasizing about all of the different ways he was going to save the school from its financial problems. He smiled as Stiles typed away at his keyboard, probably trying to research his way to a solution. Derek smiled. If Stiles could get his first-year friends riled up enough to raise an extra few thousand dollars during the Phone-a-thon, then it certainly couldn't hurt.

* * *

Derek and Stiles arrived at the Phone-a-thon together after lunch. Students had been calling alumni all morning and there was a white board set up with tallies of the pledges. From what Stiles had learned, this was an annual tradition.

Scott was on the phone with someone, but smiled and waved at Stiles when they walked in. He was sitting at a table with Erica, Boyd and Isaac, as well as another fourth-year that Stiles didn't know, while Allison and Danny sat at another table with a few fellow first-years. There were two other tables in the room, which Stiles guessed were for the second and third-years. Victoria Mays, who worked in advancement, was supervising the whole event, and was sitting at one of the tables, talking into one of the phones.

Stiles' eyes moved back to the white board, and he realized that the pledges were being tallied according to which class had procured them. He saw that the fourth-years had a substantial lead on the first-years. The tallies for the second and third-years were way behind, which was probably due to their lack of representation on the phones.

"It looks like we're beating you," Derek said to Stiles with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Stiles took off his jacket. "Oh, it's on!"

"What?" Derek said with a smirk. "You think you and your little first-year friends can get more pledges than us? We've been doing this for three years."

"Not only are gonna get more pledges than you," Stiles said, whipping out his phone, " _after_ we do, _you_ are gonna buy me dinner!"

"And, what if _we_ win?" Derek asked, an amused expression on his face.

"You won't," Stiles said, as he dialed.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, looking at Stiles phone.

"Calling for reinforcements," Stiles replied, grinning back at him.

Derek squinted at him and gave him a wry smile before hurrying over to the fourth-year table and grabbing a phone.

"Lydia!" Stiles barked into his phone when she answered. "Where are you?"

He waited for her to tell him.

"Well, get down to the Phone-a-thon, and bring Jackson!" he said eventually. "We have a school to save!"

Scott and Derek smirked at each other over this, sharing a rare moment when their thoughts aligned. _First-years!_

Lydia arrived shortly, with Jackson in tow, but instead of picking up one of the phones, she pulled out her cell phone and started calling the rest of the people in their class. Soon, Harley was there, as well as the twins, Ethan and Aiden. When Danny saw what she was up to, he got on his cell and got his boyfriend Damon, another one of their first-year classmates, to join too. Danny and Damon had only been dating for about a month or so, but Stiles could already tell that Danny had it bad.

Within a half hour Lydia had charmed, persuaded, cajoled, whined, and in one case threatened, until almost half their class had joined them at the phones. They ended up taking over the tables where the second and third-years were supposed to be, since they weren't really using them. Stiles was in awe of her, but to be completely honest, she also kind of scared him.

Once she had gotten everyone she could to come down for the Phone-a-thon, she put her cell phone away with a self-satisfied smile, and began patrolling their ranks while filing her nails. Every once in a while, when it seemed like someone might be on the verge of getting another pledge, but the alumni was for one reason or another wavering, she would snatch the phone out of their hands, smile and close the deal with her honeyed words. Scribbling a figure on a piece of paper, she would hold it out until someone snatched it away from her and added the number to their tally on the board. They were quickly catching up to the fourth-years.

Not to be outdone, Scott had gotten Kali and Cora to join them at the fourth-year table, but he didn't know who else to call. Duke was out of town, and Ennis never did things like this.

Stiles would cheer and dance whenever one of the first-years got a decent-sized pledge. While Derek found the dancing somewhat amusing, he really wanted to win their bet, even if only he and Stiles knew about it. He almost wanted to call Greenberg. Almost.

"Dude! I just got a pledge for $500.00!" Scott yelled, slamming the phone down on its cradle. Smiling broadly, Scott stood and held his hand up for Derek, and Derek gladly high-fived him, yelling, "Yes!" 

Stiles turned around at this, even though he was on the phone. Seeing Derek's happy grin, he smiled back. Derek mouthed, "Five hundred!" silently, and Stiles gave him a surprised, but approving, nod and a thumbs up. Derek couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest, even if it _was_ Scott who had gotten the pledge. 

Stiles hung up after leaving a message. Picking up another up one of the alumni information sheets, he noticed something important about the alumni's name at the top.

"Hey, this guy's name is Rev. Christopher Reed!" Stiles said, holding the paper up.

"That's my dad!" Allison yelped gleefully. "Ooo! Let me call him!"

Stiles happily handed her the piece of paper, and she quickly dialed. Instead of calling another alumni, he decided to watch Allison's call.

"Hello?" her father answered.

"Hi, Daddy!" Allison said. 

"Hi, baby!" Chris replied. "How's everything going? What's this number you're calling me on?"

"Everything's good," Allison said. "I'm calling for the Phone-a-thon."

"Oh, it's that time of year again," he said, a false note of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes," Allison said, rolling her eyes.

"Look, honey," her dad said, "we're on our way out right now, so I can't really talk, but you can put your mom and me down for $300.00, okay?"

Allison pumped her fist in victory.

"You know who you should call is grandpa," he continued.

Allison's eyes grew wide and she gestured wildly at Stiles' stack of papers.

"That is a really good idea! Thanks dad!" Allison replied.

Stiles looked down and saw the name Rev. Dr. Michael Reed on the top of his stack. He handed it to Allison.

"You're welcome," he said. "Bye, sweetie."

"Bye, Dad!" Allison said. "I love you!"

"I love you, too," he replied, and hung up the phone.

"Add $300.00 to the board," Allison said to Stiles. "I need to call my grandfather now."

"Awesome!" Stiles exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. They were less than 2k behind the fourth-years now.

By the time he got back, Allison was smiling and jumping up and down, waving the paper around like a flag.

"What?" Stiles asked excitedly.

"My grandfather just pledged $1,000.00!" she answered with a squeal.

"Oh my God!" Stiles said, high-fiving her. They started dancing around together to the cheers of their classmates, and to the dismay of Derek and Scott.

After enduring the victory dance and the faces that Allison had been making at him, Scott started to ask, "Do you think we should call Gree…"

"Don't even say it," Derek said, cutting him off with a pointed finger. "Just keep dialing," he finished, knowing it was a lost cause.

By five o'clock, the official end of the Phone-a-thon, the first-years had managed to get more in pledges than all of the other three classes combined. The event was capped off with Stiles leading the first-years in a rendition of Gungdam Style, like they were actors dancing their way through the ending credits of a Bollywood movie.

"The important thing is that we got over $10,000.00 in pledges," Stiles was saying later, as they walked back to Derek's apartment. "That's more than twice what we got during the Phone-a-thon last year, if I heard right."

"You're right," Derek said, smiling at him indulgently. "But, that's a drop in the bucket compared to how much the money the school needs."

"Yeah," Stiles said sadly, "but at least it's something. I feel like we at least tried to help. And, maybe we can try to do some other stuff, too."

Derek smiled warmly at him. "In the meantime, why don't we focus on more pressing matters?"

"Like what?" asked Stiles.

"Like, oh, I don't know," Derek said, pretending to think, "where I'm gonna be taking you for dinner?"

Stiles' eyes widened in surprise. He had completely forgotten about their bet. "What are my options?" he asked, rubbing his hands together with an evil grin.

"Wherever you want," Derek replied. "It can't be tonight, though. I have a Skype meeting with my pastor, and I really need to get working on my Ethics paper."

"All right," Stiles said, smiling mischievously. "I'm gonna have to think about this."

* * *

"You know, I have to say that your demeanor is a lot…lighter?" Melissa said, smiling. "I mean, you used to have this sense of heaviness about you before, and it just seems like it's gone now. You actually seem happy!"

Derek beamed a smile made of sunshine at her, all the more radiant for how rarely she had seen it. He looked so adorable, she wanted to pinch his cheeks. She held back, of course.

"Yeah," he said nodding. "I guess you could say that. I guess this is the first semester where I've actually _felt_ happy."

Melissa nodded.

"I mean, I like the school; I've always liked the school," he clarified, quickly. "I've never had any problems with SASR or the academics. This has always felt like the right place for me." He frowned then. "It's just people," he said. "People in general. I just didn't feel like being around anyone, like I could trust anyone. After the whole Kate thing."

Melissa was quiet, waiting to see if he was going to say something more. "I take it something has changed?" she asked, eventually.

Derek smiled at the floor, then looked up at her. "Yeah, actually," he said. "I started hanging out with Stiles. You know him, right? Stiles Stilinski?"

Melissa smiled inwardly. "Yes, I know Stiles."

Derek's smile grew softer and he looked at the floor again. "He's become…a really good friend."

First, Stiles worms his way into Scott's heart, thought Melissa, and now Derek's. She pretended to write something in Derek's file so that she could think. There was definitely something special about that Stilinski kid. He was definitely going to make a good pastor, one day.

Thinking back to her last session with Stiles, she couldn't help wondering about all of the things that he had said about Derek. She got the impression that Derek's feelings towards Stiles were also running a little deeper than friendship, not that that she needed her multiple degrees to figure that out; her dead grandmother could have figured that out. Nevertheless, she didn't want to push him. He would talk about it when he was ready.

"How was your Thanksgiving?" Melissa asked.

"It was great," Derek said, still smiling, and still sincere, but this smile had a very different quality to it.

"It was really good to see my mom and dad, and my sister, Laura," he continued.

"Your sister's in school studying dance, right?" Melissa asked.

"Yes," Derek replied. "It's really great that we're both going into such lucrative professions," he said, sarcastically.

They both laughed.

"Well, I always say you need to follow you heart," Melissa commented.

"Amen," Derek replied.

"Graduation's coming up," Melissa said. "Assuming everything goes according to plan, the spring semester should be all you need to complete your MDiv.* Have you thought about what you're going to do after that?"

Derek scrunched up his face. "I don't know. I'm on the ordination track because I figured that's just what you do, but I don't know if ordination is what I want."

Melissa smiled and tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

"I just can't imagine myself as the senior pastor at a church," Derek said. "Is that weird?"

"Do you think it's weird?" Melissa asked.

"Kind of," Derek said, shifting on the couch. "I mean, that's why most people go to seminary, right?"

"Yes," Melissa answered, "but there are other reason why people go to seminary. And, ordination is not just for senior pastors."

Derek nodded. "I guess, lately I've been thinking about getting a Ph.D. Maybe I could teach, someday."

"Well," Melissa said, looking at his file and then back up at him, "if you were anyone else, I would say you would have to take tuition into consideration, but that's not an issue for you. Your grades are good enough for the doctoral program, and you're already a student here, so that would make it even easier to get accepted. You _were_ thinking about the doctoral program at St. Anselm's, right?"

Derek nodded.

"Then, I guess the main thing to ask is if you really want to spend another two years in school," Melissa concluded.

Derek smiled at her. "I don't think that will be a problem."

Melissa smiled softly at him for a moment, then closed his folder and leaned forward. "This is the first time I've heard you say anything about the doctoral program. Have you talked about this with anyone else? Any professors? The chaplain? Your parents?"

"No," Derek said.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Melissa asked.

"Only the last few months," Derek answered, suddenly refusing to look her in the eye.

Melissa decided it was time to push. "Does this have anything to do with Stiles?"

Derek's face turned bright red.

*Master of Divinity

* * *

Stiles wasn't surprised to find Derek suddenly standing in the doorway to his room when he looked up from tying his shoe. He and Scott rarely locked the front door, and Derek had taken to letting himself in instead of knocking whenever he came over. Ever since the Phone-a-thon, he and Scott had become, if not friends, then at least cordial, so this was not the problem that it otherwise could have been.

What _did_ surprise Stiles was what Derek was wearing: charcoal slacks and a pale lavender-gray button-up shirt with a black tie. He was even wearing a matching charcoal suit jacket.

"Wow," Stiles stuttered, giving Derek a lingering once-over. "You look nice."

Derek gave him a coy smile.

"I suddenly feel underdressed," Stiles continued, looking down at his own clothes: a brown corduroy jacket over a pale blue V-neck and dark jeans. _Designer_ jeans that Lydia had helped him pick out at Macy's last week, but still, jeans.

"You look fine," Derek said. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

Stiles followed him out of the apartment, saying, "You never said where we were going. Do we have reservations, or something?"

"It's a surprise," Derek replied.

"But, you said it was my choice!" Stiles whined. "You didn't even let me pick, and now you won't tell me where it is!"

"I gave you plenty of time to pick a place, and you didn't," Derek said, as they approached his car, "so I picked for you."

"I can see how you might be confused," Stiles retorted, getting into Derek's black Camaro, which, by the way, was almost as sexy as the man himself, "seeing as how your addled brain has begun to atrophy with age…"

Derek shot him an annoyed glare. Lately, Stiles had taken particular glee in bringing up the fact that Derek was six years older than him, brat. Stiles smiled back.

"But, I suggested several places," Stiles continued, "all of which, you shot down."

Derek gave him a smug look. "That's because you kept picking the _wrong_ place." 

He started the car, pulled out of the parking lot, and began to drive, letting Stiles fiddle with the radio. It was a short drive, St. Anselm being a small town, and when Stiles saw where Derek had brought them, his jaw dropped.

"You're taking me to the Dancing River Steakhouse?!" Stiles exclaimed.

Derek got out of the car without answering him, and before Stiles could recover from the shock, Derek had made his way around the car and was opening the passenger door. Stiles got out of the car, too stunned by Derek's choice of restaurant to understand the implications.

He had seen the Dancing River Steakhouse a couple of times when he had gone into town, and had heard reports of the succulent, delicious, juicy steaks and other ethereal delights to be had there, but never imagined that he himself would ever get to partake of them. He was, after all, surviving on a student budget that more often than not meant some gussied up Top Ramen for dinner.

Derek led him inside and spoke to the hostess, who immediately brought them to a quiet corner table, while Stiles gawked at the enormous rustic fireplace, dark woods, and candles. There were freaking candles!

The hostess handed them menus once they sat down and left with a promise that their waiter would be by soon to take their drink order.

"Derek!" Stiles whispered with a hiss. "There's freaking candles!"

"Would you prefer we eat in the dark?" Derek asked, snidely. 

Stiles squinted at him, annoyed, but calmly opened the menu. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed, causing some of the other patrons to turn and look at him. "Derek," he said, lowering his voice. "This place is freaking expensive! I can't let you pay for this!"

Derek looked over the top of his menu. "You won the bet."

"This isn’t what I meant!" he exclaimed softly, gesturing at everything around them. "I was expecting Big Guy Burger, or something, not the freaking Dancing River Steakhouse!"

Derek sighed, folded his menu, and placed in down on the table in front of him. "Stiles, I don't have to pay for tuition, _you_ do. You did an amazing job getting your class together for the Phone-a-thon and raising all of that money. You won the bet, fair and square, and you deserve to be rewarded for all of the work that you did. Just let me buy you dinner, okay?" 

Stiles stared at him for a moment. "So, how much am I allowed to spend?" he asked. It was more of a challenge than an inquiry.

Derek smiled indulgently and picked his menu back up. "You can spend as much as you want."

"You asked for it, bub," Stiles said, looking at the menu again and doing his best to ignore the ridiculous prices. "If you're serious, then I'm not holding back, 'cuz I don't know if I'm ever gonna be able to come back here, again."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find a way," Derek replied with a knowing smile.

Stiles settled on the ribeye, medium rare, with roasted garlic mashed potatoes and haricot vert. Derek ordered the porterhouse, rare, with a fully loaded baked potato and green salad on the side. 

Stiles took a sip of his California cabernet after the waiter took their menus away, admiring the blackberry, plum and mocha notes. Setting the glass down, he looked up at Derek who was watching him curiously.

"What?" asked Stiles.

"Nothing," Derek said, looking away and taking a swallow of water. "It's just nice being here with you. I mean, doing something with you not at the school."

They did have a tendency to stay on campus and just hang out there. All of Stiles' other friends were there, too; easy access to his friends was one of his favorite things about SASR. It was so easy to pretend that the surrounding community didn't exist other than as a place to procure food. Stiles needed to stop doing that. Before long, it would be time to graduate, and he would have wasted a wonderful opportunity to find out what life was like in the small town where the seminary was located, not to mention the surrounding areas.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, nodding. "This is nice."

Derek smiled, and they lapsed into a slightly awkward silence. Derek sipped his old vine zinfandel, which was thick and jammy. Usually, when they were together, they had endless things to talk about, but there was just something different about facing each other across a table at a fancy restaurant. 

Stiles had to honestly say that he had never actually been inside of a restaurant as nice as the Dancing River. The people having dinner around them were not the kind of people that Stiles was used to. It made him wonder once again about Derek's background and what kind of family he came from.

"Have you eaten here before?" Stiles asked.

"Just the one time," Derek said, taking another sip of his wine, "when my family came to visit during my second year."

"How come you never came back?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "I guess I just never had anyone to come back with."

Stiles was glad that the restaurant was so dark. What was it about what Derek said that was making him blush, anyway?

When the food came, it was every bit as amazing as Stiles had imagined it would be. The beef was thick and juicy and practically melted in his mouth, and he was halfway through with his roasted garlic mashed potatoes before he realized that they were going to give him garlic breath. Why he was suddenly worried about that, he had no idea, but the food! It was heaven! And, as much as he tried, he could not stop all of the ecstatic moaning that involuntarily rose up from some secret place inside of him with every tender, tasty bite.

"Oh my God! Derek, you have to taste this!" Stiles exclaimed, cutting off a nice chunk of his ribeye and spearing it with his fork. He held it out for Derek, expecting him to take the fork, but instead, he leaned forward and took the meat into his mouth, looking Stiles directly in the eye as his lips closed around the food.

Stiles swallowed, his eyes wide as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Derek closed his eyes as he chewed slowly and sighed, eventually swallowing. "Wow, that is amazing!" He cut a piece of his steak and held it out for Stiles, much like Stiles had done for him. "Do you want to try mine?"

Following Derek's lead, Stiles leaned forward, and ate the meat off of Derek's fork. He heard snickering, and turned his head to see two little girls seated at the table next to theirs, giggling together and stealing glances at him and Derek. They were seated with their parents, who were engaged in some kind of serious conversation and were oblivious to Stiles, Derek, and apparently their own children. And, Stiles realized he was blushing for the second time that night.

There was some comfortable small talk during the rest of their meal, which they capped off with a shared caramel crème brulee, at Stiles insistence. He found himself wondering just how many orgasmic oral experiences he would be able to handle in a single night, and realized he was blushing for a third time. 

Stiles had to fight off a food coma on the ride back to campus. He just felt so warm and comfortable. 

Derek walked up the three flights of stairs with Stiles to his apartment. Scott wasn't there, and Stiles guessed he was probably with Allison. They both went into Stiles' room. Stiles turned around to find Derek crowded in close behind him, his pupils so wide that his irises were only a thin line of color around them. 

"Thanks for dinner," Stiles said, his eyes involuntarily fluttering down to Derek's lips.

Derek felt Stiles breath on his mouth, a tickling, tingling sensation that made his own breath catch.

"Stiles, I…" Derek began, but Stiles cut him off with a kiss. 

Derek's eyes went wide for a second before he closed them, grabbing the back of Stiles' head and kissing him back.

It was a soft and tentative thing, questioning. They both pulled away, confusion in their eyes.

Stiles blinked. "Wow," was all he could manage to say.

"Yeah," Derek replied. He looked down for a second, then looked into Stiles' eyes, moving forward to kiss him again, but he was stopped by Stiles' hand on his chest.

"Sorry," Stiles stammered out. "It's just…It's just, I've never done anything like this before."

Derek pulled back. "You mean with a guy?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah," he said, then gave Derek a confused look. "Have you?"

"I fooled around once with a guy in undergrad," Derek said, slowly. "It was fun, but it didn't really seem like my thing."

"Do I seem like your thing?" Stiles asked, his eyes bright.

"Maybe," Derek replied.

Stiles nodded, then carefully leaned forward, giving Derek every opportunity to stop him, until they were kissing again. The kiss was nothing too insistent, but everything Stiles hoped it would be.

"Look," Stiles said, easing back again and looking at the floor. "I really like you Derek, but I'm gonna need some time to process all of this. Is it okay if we take things slow, for now?"

Derek nodded and smiled. "Yeah," he replied, licking his lips. "Slow sounds good."

He leaned forward, kissing Stiles again, and then took a step back. "Good night, Stiles."

Stiles smiled at him, his eyes filled with soft, curious surprise. "Good night, Derek."

* * *

"Danny!" Stiles said urgently into his phone the following morning. "Where are you? I need your help!"

"I'm at my apartment," Danny said, "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Stiles replied. "I just need to talk to you." He looked at his watch. "It's almost noon. Do you want to meet at the Hummingbird Café for lunch?"

"Um, I'm with Damon, right now," Danny said.

"That's fine!" Stiles said quickly. "Bring him! Actually, that's better, yeah, totally, bring him!"

"Okay," Danny said, sounding confused. "Do you want us to meet you there in twenty?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, "twenty minutes is good."

He hung up the phone. The Hummingbird Café was only a five-minute walk away, so he had a little bit of time to kill. He started to pace. Stiles was not completely ignorant of gay sex, he did have access to the Internet, after all. But, he just really needed to get a real life perspective on the whole thing. For all he knew, he could be having gay sex with Derek on their very next date, which could theoretically happen in a few days. It could be happening in a few hours! Were they even dating? Oh my God! He scrubbed his head in nervous frustration. Anyway, the point is, he thought to himself, he needed to be prepared. 

Unable to wait any longer, he decided to go ahead and leave. He could order a chicory coffee and some beignets while he waited for his friends.

It was a Thursday, so there were plenty of tables available when he arrived. He had learned quickly to avoid the place on the weekends, no matter how bad his craving for chicken and waffles was. His legs were bouncing nervously as he sat with his coffee and the pillowy Louisiana style doughnuts, and he wondered what was making him so nervous. When Danny and Damon stepped into the café, he broke out in a sweat, despite the brisk December weather.

Damon gave him a wave and a smile as he sat down. "Hey, Stiles."

Stiles gave him a bro nod back, finding it suddenly difficult to speak. Danny eyed him curiously.

"Dude!" Danny said, sitting down. "What is wrong with you?"

Stiles glanced from Danny to Damon and then back to Danny again.

"I'm going out with Derek Hale," he blurted out.

"What?!" Danny exclaimed, leaning forward with his eyes wide and his hands grasping the edge of the table. "No!"

"Yes!" Damon said, pumping his fist.

Danny threw his head back and groaned while Damon laughed.

"Damn it, Stiles!" Danny said. "Couldn't you have waited until tomorrow?"

"Pay up, man!" Damon said, holding his hand out to Danny.

Danny huffed as he pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty into Damon's hand. Damon leaned towards Danny with pursed lips, while Danny glared. Danny eventually relented and kissed him. It was more of a really quick peck that barely counted as a kiss, but Damon seemed satisfied.

"Don't worry, babe," Damon said. "I'll buy lunch."

Danny sneered at him.

"Uh, am I missing something?" Stiles asked.

Danny leveled a look at him. "We had a pool going to see when the two of you would finally admit that you liked each other."

"You had a what?!" Stiles asked, shocked.

"A pool," Danny replied, nonchalantly as he picked up a menu. "You know, where you get a calendar and you all put money in for what days you think whatever it is you're betting on is gonna happen? Today was one of Damon's days."

"I took all of the Thursdays in December," Damon added helpfully.

"What do you mean _you all_ ," Stiles asked, eyes narrowed in annoyance and anger. "Who _all_ was in on this?"

Danny shrugged, like it wasn't important. "We all were: us, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, even Allison. It was Jackson's idea."

"I'm gonna kill him," Stiles said under his breath.

"Dude," Danny said, putting his menu down. "Relax. Isn't the fact that you and Derek are dating now the important thing?"

"You all knew about this?" Stiles asked. "I mean, me and Derek? You all knew? And, talked about it?"

"Yeah," Damon said. "It was kind of obvious."

Stiles turned red. "This is so embarrassing."

Danny gave him a playful shove. "No, it's not! Come on, Damon will buy your lunch, too!"

"Yeah!" Damon added. "I'll be collecting a little bit of cash once we get back to campus and tell everyone about this little development."

"What? No!" Stiles said, shaking his head vigorously. "You can't tell anyone anything! We're not even dating, yet!"

"What?" asked Danny. "I thought you said you were going out?"

Stiles looked down at the table and sighed. "I don't know; I guess that's not what I really meant." He looked up at them again. "He took me out to dinner last night, but that was only because of the bet."

"What bet?" asked Danny.

"We had a bet with each other about which class would raise the most money during the Phone-a-thon."

"Wait," said Damon. "Then, why did you want us to come down here so bad?"

"I kissed him after we got back," Stiles said.

They both leaned forward, very interested now.

"And?" Danny prompted. "Did he kiss you back?"

Stiles nodded. He had butterflies in his stomach. 

"Is that it?" asked Damon.

"We decided to take it slow," Stiles answered, defensively.

"I still don't understand why you wanted us down here," Damon said, with a confused look on his face.

Stiles could feel his own face growing red again. "I wanted to talk to you about…you know…"

Danny squinted at him. "About what?"

Stiles let out a defeated sigh. "Sex!" he blurted out, under his voice. "I wanted to talk to you about sex. Gay sex."

Damon tried to hold in his laughter, which Stiles thought was not very pastoral. Danny rolled his eyes at his boyfriend before turning back to Stiles.

"What do you want to know?" Danny asked, matter-of-factly. "Seriously, you can ask me whatever you want."

Stiles sat quietly and thought for a minute, realizing he hadn't actually come prepared with any questions. "Well," he said eventually, "just pretend I don't know anything, which is basically true. Like, what are the basics? What do I need to know?"

"Condoms and lube," Damon said. "Always make sure you have condoms and lube."

"You've had sex with a girl, right?" Danny asked.

Stiles stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh," Danny said. "Okay. Well, um…"

"What about Derek?" Damon asked.

"With a girl?" Stiles asked. "I think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure he has."

"What about with a guy?" Damon asked.

"Once," Stiles replied, "he said he messed around once with a guy in college. But, he said he didn't feel like it was his thing."

"And, yet," Danny said, seeming to have recovered from his Stiles-is-a-virgin shock, "here we are with you."

Stiles breathed out an exasperated sighed, giving Danny a worried look.

"Okay," Danny began, "here's what you need to know. You're probably not going to have intercourse right away. You usually need to work up to that. Just fool around with him. See what feels good. People have been having sex for thousands of years. Besides, it sounds like Derek might be able to teach you a thing or two."

"But, how will I know what to do?" Stiles asked.

Danny raised an eyebrow, but talked to him like he was the caring older brother that Stiles never had. "You both have the same equipment. You know what feels good, so you just have to think about that when you're with him. And seriously, you need to talk about stuff. If he does anything that makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel weird, you have to say something. Don't let him pressure you into doing stuff you don't wanna do!"

"Okay!" Stiles said, raising up his hands. "I won't."

The waiter came up, then, and took their order.

"So, what about, like, actual sex?" asked Stiles.

"You mean sex, as in intercourse?" asked Damon.

"Yes, I mean sex, as in intercourse," Stiles parroted back to him, with just a hint of exasperation to his voice.

"What about it?" asked Danny.

"Well," said Stiles, "how do you know who's…the top, and who's…the bottom? Like, do you talk about it first?"

"Usually, no," Danny said, tilting his head to the side to think about it for a while. "You just kind of gravitate to the position you feel comfortable with, I guess. But, a lot of guys do both."

"You could take turns," Damon added. "We do," he said, gesturing at Danny.

Danny nodded, like they were talking about taking turns doing the dishes.

Stiles nodded slowly as the waiter arrived with glasses of water for Danny and Damon.

"Oh," Damon said after the waiter walked away. "We should probably tell you about douching."

"Okay," Stiles said, holding up one of his hands, "I think I've heard about as much of this as I can take for one day. I think we need to talk about something else, now."

"Oh!" Danny said excitedly. "We started watching Firefly, yesterday!"

"Yeah!" Damon added. "Oh my God! The doctor is so hot!"

"Isn't he?" Stiles replied, dreamily.

* * *

"This is the episode where we finally get to see Simon with his shirt off!" Derek said around the straw he was chewing on, which was sticking out of his now empty soda can. 

Derek was lying on his stomach again, propped up on his elbows, watching the TV. Stiles looked down at Derek from where he was sitting next to him, cross-legged at the edge of the bed, and wondered how Derek was able to stay comfortably in that position for as long as he did. Stiles had tried it one night, but had to sit up after about twenty minutes. Maybe being super muscular helped.

"I love that part," Derek continued, his eyes glued to the screen, "even though it sucks 'cuz it's the last episode."

Stiles ran his hand through Derek's hair. "Oh really?" he said, prompting Derek to smile up at him. "I thought you said guys weren't really your thing?"

Derek pulled himself up so that he was on his knees, facing Stiles. "I said it didn't _seem_ like guys were my thing. But, I've always thought some guys were, I don't know…" He paused, frowning as he searched for a word, before locking eyes with Stiles. "Pretty," he concluded.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Stiles asked, trying not to laugh as he batted his eyelashes at him.

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist and pulled him close so that they were both on their knees, with their torsos pressed up against each other.

"Were I unwed," he said, "I would take you in a manly fashion."

"Because, I'm pretty?" Stiles asked, his eyes glancing down at Derek's lips.

"Because, you're pretty," Derek answered, very seriously.

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes again, and smiled. "But, you _are_ unwed," Stiles argued.

Derek cocked his head to the side for a bit while he pretended to think about it. "Why, I believe you're right!" he said with an exaggerated Southern accent, swiveling so that he had Stiles pinned underneath him on the bed. He looked into Stiles' eyes, searching, as Stiles looked up at him.

"Sir!" Stiles said, faking a Southern accent of his own. "I will have you know that I am a lady!" He reached up to gently brush a strand of Derek's hair from the front of his face.

Derek peered into Stiles' eyes and saw the anxiety there. "Is this was you want, Stiles?"

Stiles bit his bottom lip. No one had ever looked at him the way Derek was looking at him. Derek's eyes were full of want, but there was worry there, too. Stiles took a deep breath and nodded.

Derek smiled and caressed Stiles' cheek with his thumb. He slowly lowered his head until his lips were pressed against Stiles' lips. He was gentle at first, but Stiles rose up to meet him, brave now, fear giving way to a flood of desire he had never allowed himself to feel before. Stiles grabbed the back of Derek's head as Derek licked into his mouth. Derek was warm and heavy, but in a good way, with one of his legs slotted between Stiles'. As they kissed, Derek became more insistent, but that was good, too.

Stiles loved the feel of Derek's stubble, rough against his cheek, and ignored the tiny part of his brain that told him he was going to have stubble burn later. He loved the feel of Derek's firm, strong body pressing against him, the undulating landscape of sinew and muscle beneath his fingers. He loved the way Derek smelled, his spicy cologne mixed with the salt of clean sweat and a scent he would later only be able to describe as sex.

Stiles wanted to moan. He couldn't get enough of Derek's mouth, his hot, wet, hungry mouth, but he wanted more. He wanted to lick all over Derek's body, to taste every inch of him, to lave his tongue over every expanse of glorious muscle, to run his tongue over jaw, and clavicle, and pelvis, to wrap his lips around Derek's manhood and take him in as deep as he would go. There was a deep ache growing in Stiles' loins, begging for release, and he arched his back to grind his crotch against Derek's. It was like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.

Derek grunted at this, and he could feel Derek through their pants, his long, hard shaft straining against his fly. Derek kissed him like he was going to devour him, and rutted against Stiles with his engorged member, and for a second, Stiles' vision went white. He hissed, the friction sending an electric shock down the length of his cock right into his balls. 

Stiles gasped as Derek clamped down on his neck, sucking at his pulse like a vampire. Unable to control himself, Stiles began pawing at Derek's pants, his fingers suddenly uncoordinated in his desperation to find the button.

Derek's phone rang. 

They ignored it.

Derek was working a serious hickey onto Stiles' neck, as if they were in high school, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to care. He would wear a scarf if he had too; it was cold enough and no one would think it was strange. He finally managed to get the button of Derek's pants undone, and was now working on the zipper. It would have been a fairly easy feat, if not for the fact that Derek seemed unable to stop himself from grinding his throbbing cock against Stiles' hips, legs and groin. Stiles could swear he could feel its heat through his pants.

Derek's phone started ringing again, and they both ignored it as Stiles continued trying to get Derek's zipper down. Derek was nibbling on Stiles' earlobe now and his hand had found its way under Stiles' shirt. His fingers were clamped on one of Stiles' nipples, working the tender nub until it sent shocks down Stiles' spine and into his belly, forcing the most delicious whines out of Stiles' mouth. They continued to maul each other as Derek's phone continued to ring.

Derek's zipper was down, and Stiles could feel Derek's cock, thick and firm, through the thin material of his underwear. There was so little between his hand and Derek's throbbing member that Stiles actually felt faint, but the ringing! Derek's phone would not stop ringing!

"Are you gonna get that?" Stiles gasped, as Derek licked up his jaw.

"No," Derek answered, lowering his mouth over Stiles' again, kissing him like he might never have the chance to kiss anyone ever again. Lifting his head, he asked, "Are you ever gonna get me out of my pants?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow and gave him what he thought was a seductive smile. "You could help."

Derek shook his head languorously. "Rewards are always better when you have to work for them," he replied, his voice husky. He lowered his head until he was kissing Stiles again, his tongue probing, and Stiles more than happy to let him explore.

Derek's phone started ringing again, and he collapsed on top of Stiles in frustration. "Fuck!"

Stiles snorted. "You might as well answer it," he said, brushing a hand through Derek's hair. "Then we can get back to more important things."

Derek rolled off of him and dug his phone out of his pocket. His erection was creating a fantastic display of tented underwear for Stiles to ogle through his open fly. Stiles' eyes zeroed in on the growing spot of moisture at the base of his nicely outlined and fleshy head.

"Hello?" Derek answered gruffly, once he had managed to answer his phone.

Stiles watched as Derek listened and his annoyed face slowly turned into a blank one. 

"That's not possible," Derek said, his brow furrowing. "Are you sure?"

Stiles knew it was serious when Derek used his shoulder to hold the phone against his ear so he could tuck himself back into his pants and pull up his zipper.

"Derek?" Stiles asked, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

"When did it happen?" Derek asked the person on the other end of the line, ignoring Stiles question. He buttoned his pants and grabbed the phone again with his hand.

"Derek?" Stiles repeated, softly. 

Derek was starting to look crazed. "No!" he yelled, bringing his free hand up to his face as he started shaking his head. 

Stiles drew his knees up to his chest, as he watched Derek, almost too afraid to breathe. 

Derek started nodding at whatever the person on the phone was saying. "I'm in Northern California," Derek said, as he started walking towards the door. "Okay, I'm leaving now."

He was already out the door before Stiles realized what was happening. By the time Stiles jumped off the bed and ran out the door, Derek was halfway down the open-air stairwell.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go," Derek said tersely. He sounded oddly controlled.

"Why?" Stiles yelled, too shocked to even think about running after him. By the time he thought to give chase, Derek was already at his car. By the time Stiles made it to the parking lot, Derek was gone.

* * *

The school rumor mill was a thing of wonder. In the week since Derek had bolted from Stiles' room, Stiles had learned that Derek's family had been in a car accident. He'd found out that both of his parents had died in the crash, but his sister was still alive. She was on life support. He'd also heard that Derek would not be coming back for the rest of the Fall semester, if at all. There had been nothing official from the school, not that Stiles expected anything. 

Derek wasn't returning his calls, emails, texts or facebook messages. Stiles was worried, obviously, and the fact that finals were next week was not helping. He hated thinking about Derek waiting by himself at the hospital, as holiday decorations went up and the threat of having to spend all of his remaining Christmases without his family loomed large in the back of his mind. It reminded Stiles of the first few Christmases he'd spent without his mom. Each year had been a little bit better, but no year after her death had really been good. At least, not yet.

He pulled out his phone to fire off another text.

To: Derek Hale  
Thinking of you. I'm here if you need me.

He'd sent some form of the same message about once a day for the last week, excluding the bout of craziness that had followed immediately after Derek's disappearance. If he remembered right, he'd called 3 times, sent 5 emails, 7 text messages and 1 facebook message, all in the 24 hour period that had followed, all of which had been ignored. It hadn't been his finest hour, but he doubted anyone could blame him after what had happened. 

He walked into the library, and like a robot, looked up the books he needed, found them in the stacks, and checked them out. The library was full of students, researching and studying like mad in the finals rush that he assumed happened at the end of every semester, but he didn't look around to see if any of his friends were there. He had a week to finish his essay on Ancient Israel in the time of the Old Testament writings, and with everything else he had to do, he couldn't afford to get distracted. 

Not that he wasn't distracted. All he could think about was Derek. Why wasn't Derek returning his calls? Why hadn't he sent a single message? Stiles understood the need to be alone, but they weren't just friends, were they? Weren't they something more? He was hesitant to say they were boyfriends, but if they weren't that, then they were at least close to that. Isn't an almost boyfriend the kind of person you're supposed to talk to when something like this happens? Stiles sighed.

He had so much to do, part of him wanted to just collapse on the floor and start crying. But, the weird thing was, that was actually the _logical_ part of his brain talking. He knew that was how he was _supposed_ to feel. He didn't actually feel it. Mostly, he just felt numb. That same part of his mind that wanted to cry, also wanted to know if feeling numb was going to make finals week easier or harder to get through. Stiles didn't know, and Stiles didn't care.

As he expected, there was no one in the student lounge when he got there. The student lounge had achieved arctic levels of freezing in the last few weeks, which meant everyone would either be in their apartments or at the library, which was what he was counting on. He just wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone today. 

Never in his life had be been able to study in libraries; the controlled quiet was just too much for his overactive brain to handle. He always found himself looking around to see what the other library zombies were doing. 

And, if he stayed in his apartment, there was no telling who could show up, not to mention the fact that Scott actually lived there. He just couldn't handle the looks that his friends had been giving him lately. Even Jackson had sort of, kind of, tried to hug him the other day, and it was just weird and awkward for both of them, and everyone that had to witness it, and just, no! He needed to be alone, he needed to finish writing his essay, and he needed to find that damn blanket because it was fucking cold in there!

At some point, he reached that Zen moment, when he became one with his paper, and the words were just flowing out of him like grape juice being poured from a pitcher. He quickly copied the appropriate footnotes onto the bibliography, did a quick edit and looked at the time. Four hours had gone by and it was already dark outside. He emailed the paper to Professor Morrell, and breathed out a satisfied sigh, realizing that he could actually see his breath in the cold air. That was so not funny.

Sighing again, he ignored the puffy white steam, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He opened another email window, then paused, sucking on his teeth. He typed Derek's email into the address field. What was he going to say? What could he say that he hadn't already said? He stared at the blinking cursor for a full minute before closing the window again. 

If Derek wanted to talk to him, he would talk to him. All he could do was be there for him when/if he was ready to talk and when/if he came back. Stiles really hoped he would eventually come back.

Despite his desire to be alone, even Stiles had his limits, and he was going to have to leave the student lounge for warmer climes, unless he wanted to lose a testicle. He shoved his laptop into his bag, and gathered up his books. There were really only two options: his apartment or the library. Since he had to return the books anyway, he decided to go to the library, and at least try to study there. He could always try to find a quiet corner to hide in.

* * *

Stiles was home with his dad for winter break when he got the email from Scott. Derek's sister had passed away. Stiles hadn't even known her, but it was all he could do to stop himself from weeping. Using his sleeve to wipe some of the moisture off of his face, he opened a new email window.

To: dhale@students.sasr.edu  
Subject: I'm sorry for your loss

Stiles quickly deleted that and stared at the blank subject line. He couldn't just put something that generic in there. Derek would be getting plenty of that. Had been, probably. Stiles tried again:

Subject: Hi Derek. Please don't shut me out.

He deleted that one, too. It was too needy, and this was about Derek, not him. 

Subject: I'm here for you

Stiles sighed, and angrily tapped the delete button repeatedly, deleting each word, one letter at a time. Surely, Derek already knew that. That was basically the gist of every communication Stiles had sent to him for the last three weeks. He wanted to let Derek know that he cared about him, that he was important to him, and that he would help him get through this. He wanted to make sure that Derek would actually read whatever he sent, and not just delete it without opening it.

Subject: I love you

Whoa! What?! No! Delete! They were not ready for that, and Stiles didn't even know if it was true. Where did that even come from? 

Why was this so hard?! He was in seminary, for Christ's sake! He had to send something, didn't he? Maybe he could pick up a card and mail it, except he didn't have Derek's address. Was it bad form to send condolences via text? Surely, that was some kind of faux pas, but sometimes he felt that was the one place he really shined as a writer.

He decided to text Scott, instead.

To: Scott McCall  
How did you find out? Does everyone know?

He stared at his computer while he waited for Scott to text him back.

Subject: You are important to me, and I'm sorry this happened to you

That works, he thought. Straightforward, sincere. His phone buzzed.

From: Scott McCall  
Deaton sent an email to all of the chaplain's assistants. I guess Derek's been in contact with him.

Stiles nodded slowly. Derek's been talking to the chaplain. That was good; at least he was talking to someone. He guessed the chaplain was probably harder to ignore.

Satisfied with his subject line, now he had to think about what to actually write.

Dear Derek,

Was that too formal? Was it weird to start an email like that? Stiles thought about it for a moment, and then sighed. Whatever, it was what it was.

Dear Derek,

I just heard about your sister. I can't imagine what you must be going through right now, but I want you to know that I am thinking about you. 

I want you to know that I'm not mad at you for running out of my room that day. I totally get it. I would have done the same thing if it happened to me.

I care about you a lot. I hope you know that. I kind of had the feeling that you cared about me, too. I understand if you just want to be alone right now, but I am here if you want to talk. I might not be able to understand everything that you're feeling right now, but I will listen to you and I will be there for you in any way that you need. 

You don't have to respond to this email. I want you to do whatever you need to do to take care of yourself. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone. There are still people that care about you. You don't have to go through this by yourself.

I don't know when/if you're coming back to campus, but I'll be there the second week of January for the Hebrew intensive during Jan-term.

I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Stiles

He hit the send button before he could chicken out, and the email went out into the ether. He wasn't going to try to contact Derek anymore. He had let Derek know how he felt, and that was all he could do.

* * *

Stiles was so busy during January term that he almost didn't have time to think about Derek at all. He and his friends had practically taken over the student lounge, which was being heated now, thank God, drilling each other on Hebrew vocabulary and trying for the life of them to figure out biblical Hebrew verb conjugation.

"Hiphil, imperfect third person feminine plural?" Allison said, after studying the flash card Stiles was holding up for her. The uncertainty was etched clearly on her face.

Stiles smiled and his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my God! That's totally right! You did it!"

Allison clapped her hands and laughed, bouncing slightly in her seat.

"Just remember," said Stiles, "a lot of times that form will look identical to second person, so you need to look at the context."

Allison gave him a smug smile and a single shoulder shrug. "I actually knew that," she replied, airily.

Stiles smiled back at her and held up another flashcard. They had all crammed so much information into their heads over the last couple of weeks, Stiles was afraid that anything new was just pushing out anything old. Everyone turned their heads as someone opened the door to the student lounge. 

It was Derek.

Stiles stood. "Derek," he said, more of a breathing out than anything actually audible. It had been almost two months since they had last seen or spoken to each other.

Derek's sad eyes widened in surprise when he saw Stiles, though he should have known there was a good chance Stiles and his friends would have been there. He blinked a few times, looking at Stiles, and Allison tried to disappear into her chair, as she cautiously looked back and forth between them. Everyone else was furiously pretending to study and not pay attention to what was happening. Derek looked down, breaking eye contact. He walked back out of the student lounge, letting the door close behind him.

Stiles wasn't going to cry. He wasn't! He slowly sank back down into his chair, shocked and confused. Did Derek just not want to see him at all anymore?

"He still hasn't talked to you?" Allison asked gently. 

Stiles shook his head, unable to look at her or say anything. Danny walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, are you okay?"

Stiles nodded as he wiped furiously at tears that had come unbidden. Why was he getting so emotional about this?

"The guy's a douche," Jackson said. "You deserve better than that, Stiles."

Stiles gawked at him. "His whole family just died, Jackson! It's not his fault if he can't deal with people right now."

Jackson squirmed a little uncomfortably, as if he had somehow forgotten what happened. "Well, you still deserve to be treated better than that," he said in his own defense.

"Guys, I'm fine," Stiles said, putting on a brave smile for them. "Let's just keep studying so we can pass this stupid final, okay?" 

Danny went back to sit with Jackson, Lydia and Damon, as Stiles held up another flashcard for Allison. "What's this one?"

Stiles' mind wandered as Allison stared at the card. Was he right in leaving Derek alone all that time, or should he have tried harder to get Derek to talk to him? He felt like they had gotten so close before…before it all happened. Like they could have been something, like Derek could have been someone he could have brought home to introduce to his father someday. And, now? Was it too late, now? What were they to each other? What did Stiles mean to him if he couldn't even talk to him now, couldn't even look at him without having to run away?

Stiles vision snapped back into focus when he heard Allison talking. He nodded when he saw that she had parsed the verb correctly and held up the next card for her. He went on autopilot after that, trying really hard to not think about Derek, trying to concentrate as Allison held up words for him to parse out or define.

After a while, it was just too much.

"I'm sorry," he said, collecting his flashcards. "I think I just need to go to my room."

Allison gave him a concerned look. "It's okay, Stiles." She reached out to grasp one of his hands. "I can study with them," she said, tilting her head towards the others.

Stiles nodded, put his cards into his backpack and stood up. Grabbing his books off the coffee table, he smiled at Allison, and waved at the others. Allison pulled out her phone and tapped something into it as Stiles left the student lounge.

It was cold outside, shocking even, and Stiles watched as his breath turned into puffs of steam in the chilly January air. It helped to focus him, gave him clarity. Whatever he and Derek were to each other, he would handle it. If it was over, if it had just been the beginning of something that was never meant to be that had been derailed by this awful tragedy, then so be it. There were plenty of people in the world, and Stiles was sure that he would find the right person to be with. Someday. 

And, if Derek decided that they should maybe try again? Well then, he would definitely be okay with that, too.

It was a short walk to his building, and as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, he tried to push thoughts of Derek from his mind. He sighed in annoyance. Never before had someone managed to get under his skin like this, or taken up so much of his headspace. It was frustrating, and if he was being completely honest with himself, a little scary.

Scott was waiting for him in the kitchen when he opened the door. 

"Hey, man," Scott said, handing him a beer. 

Stiles accepted it, but gave Scott a questioning look. 

"Allison texted me that you were on your way." He opened a beer for himself. "Come on," he said, walking into his room.

Stiles followed, taking a swig of his beer, and they both sat down on Scott's bed. Scott turned his TV on and handed Stiles a controller. Stiles smiled when he saw that it was the controller for Scott's old Dreamcast and the opening sequence for Soul Calibur starting flickering across the screen. It was a classic, and probably Stiles' most favorite video game of all time. He quickly hit the start button to bring them to the menu screen, thinking that he never should have gotten rid of his Dreamcast when he was younger. When he was first getting to know Scott in the Fall, and saw that he not only had a Dreamcast, but Soul Calibur, he knew they were going to get along.

They spent the next hour or so beating the crap out of each other in the video game. Most of the time, Stiles played as Seung Mina, the Korean girl who used a spear-like weapon. She had always been his favorite, and it pissed him off that her character hadn't been included in the Soul Calibur V roster when it had come out a little over a year ago.

Scott liked to play as Taki, the ninja woman who did crazy acrobatics and sometimes screeched like a banshee. 

They cursed and screamed and swore at each other as life bars were depleted, and Scott couldn't help himself from shoving at Stiles any time Stiles pulled off a win, which was often. After a while, Scott got a text on his phone.

"Hey, everyone's going out to get some dinner," he said. "You wanna come?"

Stiles shook his head as he finished off the last of his second beer. "No. I'm not really hungry."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked, giving him a worried look that reminded him of Allison. 

Stiles nodded, feeling a slight buzz. "Yeah."

"Okay," Scott replied, squeezing his shoulder. "Give us a call if you change your mind. We can bring something back for you, if you want."

Stiles nodded again, watching as Scott pulled a jacket on. Scott paused for a moment in the doorway, looking at Stiles as if he might change his mind. Stiles lifted up his hand and gave him a little wave, and Scott gave him a small, lopsided smile in return, and left. Stiles listened as the door closed and Scott's footsteps faded away down the landing. Then, everything was really quiet, except for the sounds of Soul Calibur coming from the TV. He sighed, selecting Seung Mina again, and set the game on survival mode to see how many kills he could get before dying himself.

He was on his fifth round of survival when he heard a knock on the door. Getting up, he groaned, thinking it was probably one of his other friends trying to convince him to go out to dinner with them. He opened the door. 

It was Derek.

Derek was wrecked. His eyes were red, and he was holding onto the doorframe to keep his balance, and Stiles could smell the alcohol coming off of his body. As Stiles looked at him, Derek's lips began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears, and before Stiles knew what he was doing, he was reaching out to gather Derek into his arms. Stiles gently rubbed the back of Derek's head as he wept into Stiles' shoulder. Derek was holding onto him so tight, he could feel his heart breaking. 

Somehow, he managed to maneuver Derek into the apartment and get the door closed, which was not easy, because Derek was heavy, and no help, not that Stiles expected him to be. They stood in the kitchen for a long time, Stiles rocking Derek as his sobs rose and fell, rose and fell.

Stiles had a theory, about people fitting together when they hugged. Some people, when you hugged them, were just awkward, all angles and elbows, hard shoulders against cheeks and too large gaps where bodies should be touching. Or sometimes, they hugged too tight, for too long, or they smelled weird, or worse, made him _feel_ weird. Stiles could never get comfortable with people that hugged like that. 

Some people fit really well together. They felt right, like two puzzle pieces. These were the people you always wanted to hug, the people who were warm, and comfortable, and soft in all the right places. The people who made you feel safe. When you hugged those people, they made you feel a little bit more secure about the world. A little more secure about yourself. Those were the people you were supposed to have in your life. 

Derek was a good hugger. Even drunk and crying, Derek was a good hugger, and he just felt really good in Stiles arms. And, despite the smell of alcohol and the fact that they really hadn't known each other all that long, there was just something about the way that Derek smelled that reminded Stiles of home.

Baby step by baby step, Stiles slowly guided Derek into his room. They slowly sank onto Sitles' bed, Stiles' hand never leaving the back of Derek's head, and Derek not for a second loosening his death grip around Stiles' torso. Stiles continued rubbing Derek's head as Derek cried, his sobbing eventually subsiding as he slowly fell asleep. Stiles leaned forward and kissed the top of Derek's head, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.

When Stiles woke up, Derek was gone, and it was morning. Someone had taken off his shoes and covered him with a blanket. He checked his clock; it was almost 7:00. He had been asleep for over twelve hours. He must have been really tired.

Stretching his arms wide, he yawned and took a deep breath. He and Derek hadn't exchanged a single word, but at least it was something. It was more than something. 

* * *

Stiles flipped through the pages of his pastoral care & counseling textbook, thinking about the different ways he could use what he was reading on Derek. That probably wasn't the best way to go about reading the book. They hadn't really talked much or hung out together since the night Derek had come to his apartment, but at least whenever they saw each other on campus now, Derek didn't run away and hide. Now, Derek would give him a small warm smile, and Stiles would smile back to him, and they would both continue on their way. And surprisingly, Stiles was fine with that.

Sometimes, he would fantasize about going to Derek's apartment, just show up unannounced and just kiss him, or something. But, that would probably be inappropriate. Maybe he could just bring him some ice cream, then. But, no. Derek needed his space, and Stiles was willing to give it to him. He knew that, eventually, Derek would come around, and they could be friends again. And maybe, hopefully, they could be more than friends. Again.

Checking his watch, he realized if he didn't leave now, he was going to be late for his meeting with Melissa. He didn't know when he had started calling her Melissa instead of Dr. Ponzio. Maybe it was that time they had run into each other at the cafeteria and had just started talking like normal people, and not like counselor and student. 

He didn't take anything with him, since he was going straight back to his room afterwards. More people had discovered the student lounge since Jan-term, ever since the rumor that it was being heated had spread around the campus, and now it was often too crowded and noisy and distracting for Stiles' taste.

He walked into the administration building and then down the hall to Dr. Ponzio's office. The door opened as he reached for the doorknob. 

It was Derek.

"Oh, hi!" Stiles blurted out in surprise.

Derek's eyes were puffy and red, like he had been crying. Stiles' face fell and he reached out to touch Derek's shoulder, but didn't quite make contact. He closed his fingers into a loose fist and let his hand drop back down to his side. Derek gave him a brave smile.

"Hi, Stiles," he said, his voice sounding tired. Stepping out of the office, he gestured inside for Stiles to enter.

"Hello, Stiles," Melissa said, shifting her weight in her chair.

"Hi, Melissa," Stiles said, sitting down on the couch. He looked up, making eye contact with Derek as he closed the door. Turning back to Melissa, he saw the worried look she was giving him. Looking down, he chewed on his bottom lip. He wanted to ask about Derek so badly, but he knew that he shouldn't, and he knew that Melissa wouldn't tell him anything anyway.

"So, Stiles," Melissa began. "How are you doing?"

Sties released a long and drawn out sigh. He blinked a few times before looking up at her. "I'm okay."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Really? You don't seem okay."

Stiles shrugged. "Classes are fine. Christmas was nice, being home with my dad. Everyone's fine. Well, except…" He looked significantly at the door.

"I just miss him, you know?" he said, looking back at her. He wasn't able to stop the tremor in his voice, or the tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, wiping at his face. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I get like this."

"You don't have to apologize," Melissa said, leaning forward with a box of tissues in her hand. 

He grabbed one and blew his nose into it. He took a deep breath. "Really, I'm fine," he said, looking down at the tissue in his hand as he rubbed one of its corners between his thumb and forefinger. He scrunched up his face and looked back up at her. "Can we talk about something else?"

Melissa smiled, uncrossed her legs, and re-crossed them in the other direction. "We can talk about whatever you want."

Stiles stared down at the tissue again for a while and let out a small laugh. "It's so stupid. I can't even think about anything else to talk about because all I can think about is Derek."

Melissa sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"I really thought we had something, you know?" he said eventually. "We were spending all that time together, and he took me out to a fancy restaurant. And then, he kissed me." Stiles looked a little guilty at that last statement. "Um, well, I guess _I_ kissed him, actually."

He looked up at her again, his eyes glassy. "I thought I was falling in love with him."

Melissa gave him a tiny smile. "Did you tell him that?"

Stiles shook his head. "I might have, eventually, if he hadn't left. If his family was still alive."

"You could still tell him," Melissa said, gently. "He might like to hear something like that. Especially now."

Stiles leaned back into the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. He wiped his face with his hands. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know how I feel anymore. I don't know how he feels. We haven't really talked since…since it happened."

They sat quietly together for a long time, Melissa giving Stiles the space he needed to sort through his thoughts and emotions. She would sit with him as long as he needed, not just because it was her job, but because she cared about him, like she did about all of her students. She made some notes in his file while he sat, still looking up at the ceiling, and she wondered what he was seeing up there, but she wouldn't push him. At least, not yet. Unless he transferred to another counselor or, God forbid, another school, he would be seeing her regularly for the next three and a half years. She smiled at the thought of watching him discover himself and all of the things he would be capable of. She knew that he would learn and grow, and whatever happened with Derek, it would be the right thing. Stiles would change because of it, most likely in a good way, even if it didn't work out the way he hoped it did, and she would be there to see it. Three and a half years was plenty of time, plenty of time for her to help mold him into the strong and confident young man that she knew he would be.

* * *

Derek was staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, biting on his thumbnail while he thought about what to write. He still had five more pages to write for his preaching capstone class and he was feeling a little blocked. 

There was a knock on his door. He got up, not caring that he hadn't changed out of his sleeping clothes yet, or that his hair was crazy and sticking out in every direction.

Stiles gave him a startled look when he opened the door. He felt a little embarrassed when Stiles quickly glanced down at his flannel pajama bottoms, pausing ever so briefly at his form-fitting white undershirt, as his gaze made its way back up to Derek's face.

"Hi," Derek said, opening the door wider. 

"Hi," Stiles said, smiling affectionately at him. "Did I wake you?"

"No, no," Derek said quickly, stepping back to let Stiles in and running a hand through his hair, trying to make it stay down. "I just didn't bother getting dressed. I was gonna stay in all day and do homework."

"Oh," Stiles said, stepping inside. "I just thought I'd come by and see if you wanted to get lunch, or something."

Derek blinked at him a few times. "Stiles," he said, pausing for a bit. "I don't know…"

Stiles held up his hands. "No pressure, Derek. You don't have to come if you don't want to. And, if you do, it doesn't have to mean anything. It's just lunch."

Derek blinked some more, and sighed. Eventually, he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can do lunch. Do you mind waiting while I hop in the shower?"

"Sure, no problem," Stiles said, plopping down in a chair. 

Derek turned around and walked into his room, closing the door. He leaned his forehead against it as quietly as he could and let out a longsuffering breath. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for people. He definitely wasn't ready for Stiles. Standing up straight, he reached for the doorknob, determined to tell Stiles just that, but he stopped himself. He needed to eat, and he knew he didn't have any food in the fridge. And, Stiles wasn't so bad. In fact, he liked Stiles. He kind of liked Stiles too much. That was what scared him. Bad things always happened when he liked people like that.

He took a deep breath, and pulled off his shirt. He flicked on the light in his bathroom and started the water running in the shower. The building was old, and it always took a while for the water to get hot. He looked at himself in the mirror. His stubble was so long that it could almost be considered a beard, and he thought about shaving it. But, then he remembered that Stiles liked his stubble like that, and decided against it. He reached out his hand to feel the temperature of the water. It was still cold. Why was he worried about what Stiles thought about his stubble?

He walked back into his room to pick out some clothes, grabbing the dark jeans he wore yesterday, and a clean pale gray hoodie from the pile of clothes in his laundry basket that he hadn't bothered to fold and put away. There was steam coming from his bathroom now, so he pulled his pants off, and went back inside.

The hot water felt so good against his skin that he had to remind himself a couple of times that Stiles was still waiting for him in his living room. Stiles. In his living room. He should have just told him, "No." 

He got out of the shower and quickly dried himself off and then put his clothes on. Squirting a small mound of mousse into his hand, he worked it through his hair, again wondering why he cared about what he looked like around Stiles. Frowning into the mirror, he sighed, turned off the light, and walked into his bedroom. He paused at the door, wondering how long it would take for Stiles to come knocking if he just decided to stay in his room. It wasn't worth the trouble to find out, he finally decided, and besides that, he was hungry. Best to just get this over as quickly as possible.

Stiles looked up and put his phone away as he walked through the door. "Ready?" he asked.

Derek nodded silently.

"Is there anywhere in particular you wanna go?" Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.

"Okaaay," Stiles said, drawing it out obnoxiously. "How about Big Guy Burger? I haven't gone there since I've been back, and I kind of miss it."

Derek gave him a wry grin. "Where every guy is a big guy?"

Stiles beamed at him, nodding his approval. "That's right!"

* * *

Derek stared at his blinking cursor, chewing on his thumbnail again as he thought about what to write. He was working on the conclusion to his paper now, and he was wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a white undershirt again, only this time, he had showered when he woke up, so his hair actually looked nice. 

Stiles was on his couch, with his computer on his lap, and ten to one, he was playing Farmville instead of actually doing anything productive.

"We got another email from President Silver," Stiles said, just as Derek had started typing again. 

Derek winced as he lost his train of thought. "Does it look important?" he ground out, irritably.

"Kind of," Stiles answered, oblivious to Derek's annoyance.

"What does it say?" he asked, unwilling to minimize his document to read the email himself.

"It looks like someone made a huge donation to the school," Stiles said as he read. "Oh my God! The donation was big enough that they won't have to shut down the Portland extension for at least another five years! That's awesome! I bet the students taking classes there are pretty relieved."

Derek looked down from his computer screen and smiled. "Yeah, that's great."

"It doesn't say who the donation is from, though," Stiles said, looking over the email again. "It must have been a lot of money; I think I read somewhere that it was costing the school something like a million dollars a year just to keep it running. Hmm. I guess the donor wanted to stay anonymous, or something."

"I guess so," Derek replied, still not turning to look at Stiles.

"Derek?" Stiles asked.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you glad the extension is going to stay open?" Stiles asked, his voice still excited.

"Of course I am," Derek replied, trying but failing to match Stiles' tone.

Stiles was quiet for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Is something wrong?" 

Stiles was using his "pastoral care and counseling voice." Derek recognized it from when he had taken the class three years ago.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. He heard Stiles moving behind him. Then he felt Stiles hand on his back. He closed his eyes.

"Your back is all tense," Stiles said. "Do you want me to leave? I can leave."

Derek turned around then, to look at Stiles. "No," he said. "No. I don't want you to leave."

Stiles squatted down so that he wasn't towering over Derek. He reached carefully and gathered Derek's hands between his own, holding them gently. "I know I say this all the time," he began, looking into Derek's eyes, "but you can talk to me, Derek. Really. I am totally here for you. You know that, right?"

Derek nodded, but remained mute. 

"Something's wrong," Stiles continued. "I can tell. Was it the email? Was it something I said?"

Derek closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Stiles stood and gently tugged on his hands.

"Come here," Stiles said softly, somehow getting Derek to stand up.

Stiles led him to the couch, and made him sit down. Sitting next to him, Stiles draped one arm over his shoulders and curled into his side. He pulled Derek's head down to his chest, and wrapped his other arm around him, encasing him in a Stiles cocoon. At first, Derek felt kind of silly, but then he started to relax, and he realized that whenever he was in Stiles' embrace, he always felt safe. He wrapped his arms around Stiles' torso and pulled him close, sniffling into his shoulder.

"There, isn't that better," Stiles said, lightheartedly, trying to bring some levity to the situation.

Derek chuckled softly and nodded. Stiles could feel Derek pulling away from him, so he let him go. Derek grabbed Stiles hands and stared down at them as he caressed them with his thumbs. Stiles ducked his head down, trying to get Derek to look him in the eye.

"So, are you gonna tell me what that was about?" he asked, smiling softly at him.

Derek smiled back at him, then brought Stiles' hands up to his mouth to kiss them. "I'm not ready to talk about it," he said, lowering their hands with a slight grimace. He looked intently into Stiles' eyes. "I will tell you, though, eventually. But, not right now. Is that okay?"

Stiles nodded emphatically. "Of course." He pulled Derek's head towards him and kissed him on the forehead. "You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want." He leaned back a little, squeezing Derek's hands. "Do you still want me to stay?"

"Yes," Derek said, standing abruptly. "You sit there and play Farmville…Don't even try to deny it!" he said quickly, cutting off the protest he knew was coming. "And, I am going to sit here until I finish this damn paper." He sat back down in front of his computer, but swiveled around to face Stiles. "And, after I am done, we can watch Serenity and eat that ice cream you brought over."

Stiles eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure? That's not exactly the happiest movie we could watch."

"I know," Derek said. "But, it's a good story, and I like it. It's cathartic. It's like Dr. Ashby always says, 'Stories are what holds the…"

"…universe together,'" they finished in unison.

* * *

Derek looked into Stiles eyes, as they lay in the bed facing each other, their stomachs full of ice cream and their eyes still bright over Shepherd Book and Wash's deaths and funeral in the movie. He was caressing Stiles' hands again.

"It was the money from my parents," Derek said. "And, my sister. The money from their life insurance."

"What was?" Stiles asked.

"The donation to the school," Derek clarified. "I gave it to the school."

"What?!" Stiles said, sitting up. "You were the anonymous donor?"

Derek sat up with him and nodded.

"Oh my God!" Stiles exhaled softly, then looked at Derek, his eyes wide. "But, what about you? You don't have a family now. Who's gonna support you?"

Derek smiled sadly, and grabbed Stiles' hands again. "You don't have to worry about me. I didn't give the school all of the money, just most of it. There's enough left that I won't really have to worry about money for the rest of my life."

"Really?" Stiles asked, his face still lined with concern.

"Yes, really," Derek reassured him. "Even if I become a one of those pastors who have to work for basically nothing 'cuz their congregation can't support them, I'll be fine."

Stiles nodded slowly. "That's really amazing," he said finally. "That you did that. For the school."

Derek swallowed. "This school is my family's legacy. It's what they would have wanted. I just wish it was more. Five years really isn't that long."

"It's five more years than they had before," Stiles said. "It gives us time to come up with a more permanent solution."

Derek reached up, cupping Stiles' face with his hand and softly running his thumb over his cheekbone. "Stiles," he said, smiling like he was watching the sun rise, "I have to tell you something."

Stiles breath caught, but he remained silent. 

"You are the most optimistic person I've ever met."

Stiles let out a pent-up sigh and was visibly stopping himself from laughing.

"What?" asked Derek, smiling like he had just missed the punch line of a joke. "What did you think I was going to say?"

Stiles shook his head, laughing out loud now. "Nothing," he said, grabbing the sides of Derek's head. "I wasn't thinking anything." And, he planted a kiss on Derek's lips, equal parts want and mirth. 

They tumbled back down onto the bed, rolling over and under each other, kissing and laughing until their nervous energy was gone and they were laying next to each other, breathing heavily and staring up at the ceiling.

Derek propped himself up on one elbow, so he could look down and over at Stiles. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"For what?" Stiles asked, raising himself up on one elbow, as well.

"For not coming to you sooner," Derek answered. "For shutting you out. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," Stiles said, sighing sadly. "You did what you had to."

Derek shook his head. "No, you don't understand." He grabbed Stiles hand again. "I really like you, Stiles."

Stiles could tell he was thinking, thinking really hard, but it was obvious he didn't know what to say. "I really like you too," Stiles said back to him eventually, smiling a little nervously.

Derek huffed out a sigh, and flopped back down on to the bed, pulling Stiles close to him. He had only meant to close his eyes for a little while, but the next thing he knew, it was morning. And, Stiles was gone.

* * *

Stiles was quiet for the entire ride back from the movie, which was a sharp contrast from every single other time they had gone to see a movie together. Derek could tell from his bouncing leg that he was nervous.

"Stiles, are you okay?" he asked, glancing briefly at him, and then turning his eyes quickly back to the road.

Stiles turned to him in surprise. "Fine!" he said a little too loudly. "Why?"

"Nothing," Derek said, though that "nothing" was clearly a "something." It was strange that Stiles didn't press him on that, but Derek decided to let it go.

"So, do you want me to drop you off at your place, or do you want to come over to my place.?" Derek asked.

"Your place," Stiles said, definitively.

Derek chuckled to himself. "You're the boss."

Derek parked his car, and they both got out. Stiles was immediately at his side, pulling him close as they walked. It was nearing the end of February now, but the nights were still chilly.

When they got up to Derek's apartment, Stiles shrugged his jacket off, letting it drop to the floor, before helping Derek out of his. Then, Stiles was all over him.

"Whoa!" Derek said, laughing in surprise. "What has gotten into you?!"

Stiles looked really frustrated now. He grabbed the sides of Derek's head and looked him in the eye. "Derek! Focus! Are you listening?"

Derek nodded, though his eyes were laughing.

"You like me, right?" Stiles asked, very seriously.

Derek nodded again.

"Okay, good," Stiles said, sounding relieved. He leaned forward now, and kissed Derek softly, still urgent, but without the frenzy.

Derek reciprocated, then started kissing along Stiles jaw while Stiles made cute little whimpering noises. When he got to Stiles' ear, he whispered, "Is this your way of asking me to make love to you?" 

Stiles bit his bottom lip, but nodded so that there was no mistaking his answer. 

Derek chuckled. "Well, I think I can do something about that," he said, as he continued kissing Stiles and started maneuvering them into the bedroom.

Stiles hands were working at his belt buckle, which he had undone in record time, and then his button was undone, and then his fly was down. 

Derek laughed. "That was _much_ quicker than last time," he said, sounding impressed.

Stiles' mouth was on Derek's, and then he was suddenly nibbling on his ear. "I practiced," he said, reaching down to undo his own pants.

Derek grabbed his hands. "Uh uh," he said, giving Stiles a playful shove so that he fell backwards on the bed. 

Derek kneeled down in front of him, with Stiles' legs on either side. He rucked up Stiles' shirt and kissed him just above his belly button, slowly making his way down Stiles' happy trail. Stiles groaned and squirmed beneath him, but Derek kept one hand on his chest to keep him from getting up.

He kept sucking, just above Stiles' waistband, while his other hand worked to undo Stiles' pants. He worked slower than necessary, only because he knew it was making Stiles crazy, and he kept rubbing his forearm against Stiles' crotch, smiling as he felt Stiles' growing harder with each passing second. 

"Oh my God!" Stiles gasped out, pulling off his own shirt. "Just get my pants off already!"

Derek nipped him gently, right on the spot he had been sucking, causing Stiles to yelp and giggle nervously. He was gonna have a nice mark there in the morning. Derek unzipped Stiles' fly and pulled his pants off, revealing a very flattering pair of white briefs with baby blue piping. 

"Danny helped you pick these out, didn't he?" Derek asked.

The blush going down Stiles' chest was all the answer he needed.

"Nice," Derek said, smiling appreciatively, whether at the underwear, or Stiles' fully erect member straining at it, Stiles' didn't know.

Stiles squeaked when Derek started mouthing him through the cloth, and he held his hands out, whimpering, "Derek, um, I've never done this before, so I don't know how long I'm gonna…" 

Derek mouthed him harder through the fabric, and Stiles threw his head back with a very dirty moan, unable to finish his sentence. He looked up again when he felt Derek pulling his underwear down, and watched as his cock popped out and slapped up against his belly. His eyes grew wide as Derek slowly, so slowly, licked up the shaft, maintaining eye contact the entire time. It was the most pornographic thing he had ever seen. And, Stiles had seen a lot of porn.

Derek reached up, and hooked a finger around the base of Stiles' cock, pulling it forward so that it stood straight up like a mast, and the sight of Derek's mouth closing around the pulsing pink head of his throbbing manhood was almost enough to make him come right then. Stiles' breath grew shallow. He had to stop watching, because he knew if he did, he was just gonna come, but Derek's mouth was wicked. It was so warm, so wet and slick, and as his tongue laved over the slit at the tip, sending a million electric sparks down his rock-hard shaft, Stiles was done. 

"Derek," he croaked out. "Derek, I'm gonna co…"

But, Derek sucked down as Stiles' back arched involuntarily, his toes curling as he grunted out an animal noise he had never made before. Derek was grabbing onto Stiles' hips as he bucked, and spurt after spurt of hot, thick, salty cum hit the back of his throat, and he finally had to let go, laughing and coughing as a final wad of white spunk splattered on his lips.

Stiles was moaning and breathing heavy, like he had just run a marathon. Derek reached up to wipe the cum off his mouth, sucking it off of his finger. Stiles eyed him as he did this, his pupils blown wide as a tiny part of his brain marveled at the fact that Derek was still fully clothed.

Suddenly, Derek was on all fours on top of him, kissing him, and he could taste himself, a hint of salt and bitter chlorine, inside of Derek's mouth. It only made him want Derek more. His hands fumbled with Derek's jeans, pulling them and his underwear down at the same time. Derek's cock flopped out, heavy and hard, slick with precum, and Stiles took it into his hands, stroking it as he gently squeezed his balls.

Derek stopped kissing Stiles then, and pulled off his shirt. He looked down, mesmerized by what Stiles was doing. "Your hands," he whispered huskily. "I love seeing your hands on my cock, Stiles."

Stiles grunted, licking his lips and looking up at Derek until Derek lowered his body back down to kiss him. They kept their lips locked together, hungry, wet and wanting, as Stiles continued to stroke him. He loved the feel of Derek in his hands, the velvety soft skin encasing an iron shaft, hot and heavy, throbbing with a life of its own.

Derek's breathing came quicker, and balls were suddenly drawn tight against his body, and Stiles knew what was coming. Derek came with a grunt and a moan, coming all over Stiles' stomach in thick, sticky ropes. His muscles tensed with every spurt, and when he was spent, he collapsed on top of Stiles, his cum slippery between them, and Stiles smiled.

"I guess this means I'm not a virgin anymore," Stiles said, chuckling softly, as he rubbed Derek's back

Derek, still breathing heavy, rumbled with a laugh, and he turned to kiss Stiles on the cheek. "I guess not."

* * *

Scott walked out of his bedroom, yawning and bleary-eyed. He smelled coffee. Stiles was standing at the stove cooking something and humming to himself.

"You're up early," Scott said, with a slightly grumpy voice. He went over to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup. "Why are you up so early?"

"I wanted to caramelize some onions before I had to go to class," Stiles answered, giving the onions a quick stir. "I'm making dinner for Derek tonight, and I'm kind of gonna be pressed for time, so I thought I'd get this part out of the way."

"Wow," Scott replied, dropping into one of their chairs. "You two seem to be getting serious." Scott gave him a confused look. "Wait a second, you didn't come home last night, did you?"

Stiles spun around, biting his lower lip and wiggling his eyebrows, holding the spatula triumphantly. "This," he said, gesturing all over his body with his free hand, "is no longer a lamb without blemish!"

"What?!" Scott exclaimed. "No! I didn’t want to know that!" He buried his head in his arms on the table and started mumbling things that Stiles couldn't hear.

Stiles laughed, and went back to stirring his onions. Scott took a big swallow of coffee. 

"I am making Derek a special dinner tonight," Stiles said, "as a 'thank you.'"

Scott groaned loudly, only it was more of a scream than a groan. He stood up, grabbed his coffee and went back into his room, not quite slamming the door. Stiles laughed obnoxiously loud, just so Scott could hear him.

"I don't want to know!" Scott yelled back at him through the door.

Stiles turned off the heat on the onions, then got dressed in his room. He poured some coffee into his travel mug, and jogged from their apartment and down the stairs with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Seeing Allison and Lydia ahead of him trudging up the hill, he ran to catch up.

They heard him running, and turned around to wait for him. 

"Good morning, Stiles!" Allison called out to him brightly.

"Morning," Lydia said, when they had all started walking again.

"Morning," Stiles wheezed out, still trying to catch his breath from the brief sprint. He took a swallow of his coffee.

Allison's phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her purse. She tapped the screen to unlock it and read the message, then her eyes went wide and she gasped, looking at Stiles.

"What is it?" Lydia asked.

Allison laughed and put her phone away, giving Stiles an evil grin. Stiles looked at her curiously, and then it dawned on him, and he sighed.

"Scott has such a big mouth!" he spat out angrily, but he was in too much of a good mood for there to be any real heat behind it.

Allison shrieked hysterically, and started poking at Stiles with her fingers. "Tell us!" she demanded. "Tell us everything!"

"Tell us what?" Lydia asked, sounding irritated now.

Stiles gave them both a smug look. "Let's just say that Scott isn't the only one with a big mouth."

Allison gasped, sounding very much like a scandalized church lady. Then, her face softened, and she smiled at him like she was a proud older sister.

"I saw that one coming," Lydia replied, rolling her eyes and sounding very unimpressed.

"You all didn't have another pool going, did you?" Stiles asked, serious now.

"Awww," Allison cooed, patting him on the cheek. "We would never do that to you!" she said. "Again," she added, after half a beat.

Stiles squinted at her, scrunching up his face as if he was mad. But, it was Allison. He couldn't be mad.

He saw Derek walking up from the other side of the hill, and Derek smiled at him. Stiles looked at Allison and Lydia, giving them both a huge grin before he took off running. He practically crashed into Derek, wrapping both of his arms around him and giving him a big "good morning" kiss, or another one anyway, since he had already done that before leaving Derek's apartment earlier.

"Good morning," Stiles said, pulling away from him and beaming.

"Good morning," Derek replied. "You're certainly in a good mood."

Stiles laughed and kissed him again. "Well, I have every reason to be in a good mood."

Derek smiled, knowingly.

"Don't forget," Stiles said, poking him in the shoulder. "I'm coming over tonight. I'm making you dinner!"

Derek nodded as Stiles ran back towards Allison and Lydia, reaching them just as they got to the big doors of Heidelberg Hall. He waved back at Derek as he walked through them, and Derek flashed one of his megawatt smiles, no longer a rare sighting on the SASR campus.

* * *

Stiles pulled the bottle of sauvignon blanc from the fridge. 

"Here, we don't want this to get too cold," he said, handing it to Derek. 

"Really?" Derek asked, puling out the cork and pouring two glasses. "I thought white wines were always supposed to be chilled."

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, I heard some guy on the radio one time saying that most people serve their red wines too hot, and their white wines too cold."

Derek handed him a glass. "Cheers!" he said, clinking his glass against Stiles'.

"Cheers!" Stiles echoed back, taking a sip of the wine. "Mmm! That'll go good with the salmon."

"What are you making again?" Derek asked.

"Brie stuffed salmon," Stiles answered, turning the light on in the oven to see how they were coming along. He turned the light off and stood back up again. "And, caramelized onion mashed potatoes."

"That sounds amazing," Derek said, smiling at him and taking a sip of his wine.

"It is," Stiles assured him. "It's one of my specialties. I make it for me and my dad all the time, except when I do it for us, I only put a tiny bit of brie in it."

"Don't worry!" he said, when Derek gave him a little sad look. "My dad's not here, I stuffed the crap out of these babies!"

Derek laughed and sat down at the table.

"Speaking of my dad," Stiles continued. "Do you have any plans for spring break?"

"Not really," Derek replied, a dark cloud beginning to settle over his head.

"Well," Stiles said quickly, before Derek could start thinking too much, "I'd like you to come home with me, then. I'd really like you to meet my dad. I think you'd both really like each other."

Derek thought about it for a bit and then nodded. "Okay. That sounds good." 

Stiles smiled and turned back to the oven, just as the timer went off. He opened the oven door and pulled the baking sheet out, setting it on the counter. After placing each of the pieces of fish on a plate, he then scooped a generous helping of mashed potatoes next to them. He brought the plates to the table and set one down in front of Derek, and then sat down across the table from him with the other plate. Derek reached out, grasping Stiles' hand, said a quick blessing, and then cut into the salmon with his fork.

Stiles watched, holding his breath as Derek lifted the small bit of fish to his mouth, a string of melted brie trailing all the way down to his plate. Stiles' eyes grew wide as Derek's mouth closed around the fork, Derek ducking his head a little and laughing as he used his tongue and fork chase at the bit of cheese that was clinging to his lips and chin. Stiles gave him a goofy grin, because it was completely adorable, but when Derek had finally stopped fussing to actually taste his food, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Stiles," he said, after he had swallowed. "That is really good."

"Thanks!" Stiles replied, brightly. "Now, try the potatoes!"

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Derek asked, gesturing at Stiles' untouched plate.

"I will," Stiles answered, "after you try the potatoes!"

Derek smiled and shook his head, but lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed, with slightly exaggerated force, throwing his head back as he slammed his fist to the table. "That's delicious!" he yelled, crying out to the heavens. Derek smirked at him, giggling to himself. "No, seriously, those are awesome potatoes."

Stiles got up, ran over to him and kissed him, tasting the caramelized onion. "I love you, so much." Stiles eyes went wide. Did he just say that?

Derek smiled softly up at him, reached up, and pulled Stiles' head down for another kiss. This one was serious, longing, and deep. "I love you, too," Derek said looking him intensely in the eyes.

Stiles went back to his seat and couldn’t help looking over at Derek and smiling shyly at him throughout the rest of their meal. Derek looked content, happy in a way Stiles had never seen him before. They didn't talk much while they finished their food; the looks they gave each other told them everything they needed to know.

After they had finished doing the dishes, Derek spun Stiles around to face him. Derek kissed him, crowding Stiles against the sink. Stiles lifted his hands to the sides of Derek's head, kissing him back and grinding his body against him.

They somehow made it into the bedroom, and Stiles was once again expertly undoing Derek's pants, except this time, it was Stiles who pushed Derek onto the bed. Derek lifted up an eyebrow, giving Stiles a wry smile, and Stiles smiled back at him, as he pulled off Derek's pants and knelt down in front of him.

Stiles didn't waste any time mouthing Derek through his underwear. He knew what he wanted: he wanted Derek in his mouth, and he wanted it now.

He pulled Derek's black boxer-briefs off, revealing his flaccid cock and heavy balls. He sucked one of Derek's balls into his mouth, luxuriating in Derek's scent and the feel of his velvety shaft against his cheek. He licked down the length of Derek's soft cock, almost wanting to pause in wonder because really, Derek's was a stunning specimen of manhood, but he had a job to do, and that was to get Derek hard. As luck would have it, that seemed to be happening already as he sucked Derek's still soft length into his mouth. Derek's hands were at the back of his head, as he slobbered his way up and down his shaft as it grew thicker and longer and fatter and Stiles was starting to worry if he was even going to be able to do this when Derek was fully hard.

He let Derek's cock slip out his mouth, glistening with his saliva, and he pumped it a few times with his hand until it was standing in its fully erect glory. It was, in a word, beautiful. Stiles lowered his mouth around the fat head, and then tried to take as much of Derek into his mouth as possible. He tried to remember what Danny had told him. Don’t forget to breathe, and remember to have a good time! If you remember how much you actually want to do this, it will help you suppress your gag reflex.

Stiles tried to open his throat, and take even more of Derek, and at first it was fine, but before he could get in that last inch, he was off of Derek's cock, coughing and sputtering, his eyes watering as he tried to keep himself from loosing his dinner.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, sitting up suddenly.

Stiles rose up on his knees and pushed Derek firmly back down onto the bed, looking him in the eye and nodding very seriously. Derek smiled like he was really proud of him and Stiles eyes moved back to Derek's monster cock. It wasn't really a monster, Stiles thought, but from what he had seen in his life, and that included gay porn, it was a pretty decent size, and more than enough to challenge a fledging cock sucker.

He took a deep breath, and took Derek into his mouth again, cupping his balls as Derek moaned. Stiles took another breath through his nose, which was admittedly difficult with a huge cock in your mouth, and tried opening his throat again. This time he was able to deep throat Derek all the way down to the root, and Stiles would have cheered if only his mouth wasn't so full. At that moment, Stiles seriously could have died from happiness and lust, with Derek down his throat and Derek's hands massaging his scalp, there really wasn't anything else he could want. Except, he realized suddenly, for an uncomfortably tight feeling in his groin area. 

As he bobbed up and down on Derek's cock, taking him in as far as he would go each time, he reached down to undo his own fly, pulling out his cock and stroking himself in time to the rhythm he had going on Derek's throbbing member. 

Derek lifted his head to watch Stiles, his breathing heavy. This was not the first time Derek had received a blowjob, but it _was_ his first blowjob from a man, and for someone who claimed to not know what he was doing, Stiles freaking knew what he was doing! His mouth was the dirtiest, hottest, filthiest thing Derek had ever felt, and he was absolutely loving every second of it. Did Stiles really learn to do all of this by watching porn? Derek was going to have to do some research to return the favor.

There was a short circuit in his brain, and he couldn't think anymore. He could feel the tension growing deep in his belly and he gasped at how sensitive his dick was getting.

"Stiles!" he moaned. "Stiles! I'm coming! I'm gonna come!"

And, Stiles just kept on sucking. Derek came. He came like he had never come before. Reality dissolved around him and for a second, he only existed as pleasure, as moaning, as sex. For just a second, and he would laugh about this to himself later, he thought, _this is what heaven must feel like_.

Stiles felt Derek's cock shudder, and suddenly, cum was flooding into his mouth. He tried to swallow it, but there was too much, and he ended up pulling off and stroking Derek through the end of his orgasm, his cock spurting up the last wads of semen onto his hand.

He felt his own orgasm approaching, and he scrambled up onto the bed, straddling Derek's chest and feeding him his cock. He grabbed the headboard and fucked into Derek's mouth, coming almost instantly, grunting and gasping as Derek sucked him dry. Exhausted and weak, he collapsed onto Derek's chest, laughing because they both still had their clothes on. Stiles kissed him, their spunk mixing in their mouths as they chased it around with their tongues.

"How in the world did you learn how to do that?" Derek asked, after their breathing had become languid and they had both been quietly lying next to each other for a while.

"Danny," Stiles replied. 

"You did not do that with Danny!" Derek said, an angry jealous monster rising up inside of him.

"No!" Stiles said laughing as he gave Derek a playful shove. "He gave me some pointers. And, a video to watch. And, a banana."

"A banana?" Derek asked, one eyebrow raised.

"A banana," Stiles repeated, nodding very seriously. 

* * *

"Is that all you're bringing?" Stiles asked, as Derek lifted a single suitcase into the back of Stiles' Jeep .

"We're only gonna be gone for a week," Derek replied, getting into the passenger seat. "Why? How much stuff did you bring?"

Stiles turned to look at his back seat. "My suitcase if full of textbooks, and I'm bringing my computer bag, my backpack, and about four loads of laundry."

Derek gave him a sideways glance. "You're bringing books and laundry?"

"I didn't have time to do laundry!" Stiles argued, "Besides, doing laundry at home is free. And, I really need to get some reading done before classes start again."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Trust me, you're not going to get any reading done. I'd be surprised if you cracked open even a single book while we're up there."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah? We'll see about that."

Stiles pulled out of the parking lot and drove towards the freeway. Beacon Hills was only about two hours away, an easy drive for a native Californian. They talked about unimportant things on the way up, trying to get into the mood of Spring Break. Stiles pointed different things out to Derek along the way, since he had never been in the area before, and within no time at all, they were pulling up to the Stilinski residence.

"My dad must still be at work," Stiles said. "His cruiser's not in the driveway."

"So, your dad's the sheriff," Derek said, suddenly remembering this very important fact. "That means he has a lot of guns."

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed, as he pulled his suitcase and backpack out of the Jeep. "My dad is like the sweetest, nicest, most innocent guy you will ever meet. You don't have to worry about him."

Derek sneered. "Your dad is the sheriff! How sweet, nice and innocent can he be?!"

"Just, trust me, okay?" Stiles insisted. "You'll like him. I promise."

After they unloaded the car, Stiles drove Derek around town, showing him the sights, of which there were not many, Beacon Hills being as small as it was. Still, it was bigger than St. Anselm, and they were able to walk around the mall, watch a movie, and have dinner at one of Stiles' favorite restaurants. It was a restaurant he had been seriously craving, even though he had just eaten there during the winter break.

By the time they got back, Stiles' dad was home, and Derek was getting nervous again. Stiles reached over as they walked up to the door and squeezed Derek's shoulder.

"Relax, okay?" Stiles said. "It's not like he's going to tear your throat out with his teeth, or anything."

"Mm, hm," Derek replied, as Stiles unlocked the door.

"Dad!" Stiles yelled. "We're home!"

The sheriff walked into the foyer just as Derek was pulling the door closed. He looked Derek up and down, giving him an appraisal that made him feel more naked than he had ever felt in his entire life, including the times he had actually been naked.

"You must be Derek," he said, holding out his hand.

"Yes, sir," Derek said, grasping his offered hand and shaking it firmly.

The Sheriff squinted at him. "And apparently, you think you're good enough to date my son?" It was more of an accusation than a question.

Derek looked at him like a criminal who had just been caught re-handed in the middle of a crime.

He didn't know how long the sheriff had been home, but he did notice that the Sheriff hadn't yet removed his holster or his gun. And, he was still in uniform. And, he still had his badge prominently displayed. And, unless Derek was mistaken, there was a shotgun propped up against the wall, by the door leading into the kitchen. That hadn't been there when he and Stiles had left earlier in the day.

But, despite all of that, he took one good look at Sheriff Stilinski's face, and visibly relaxed, smiling as if he had just been let in on some inside joke.

"You find something amusing, son?" Sheriff Stilinski asked.

Derek chuckled a bit. "Sorry, sir, it's just that you look an awful lot like our spirituality professor, Dr. Ashby. Stiles never told me."

Stiles eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Oh my God!" he gasped, gawking at his dad, then at Derek, then back at his dad. "I seriously never noticed that before!" He squinted at his dad. "I think it's because Dr. Ashby always wears glasses? I just seriously never realized how much you two look alike!"

"Seriously?" asked Derek "You're going with the Superman defense?"

"Come on, Derek!" Stiles said, flailing at his dad. "I've seen this guy's face like almost every day my entire life, and he's never worn glasses before! I mean, they look alike, but it's not like they're twins or anything. Maybe it's just 'cuz I'm so familiar with my dad, that Dr. Ashby looks more different to me than he does to you."

"I don't know," Derek said skeptically, turning to the Sheriff. "Are you sure you don't have a long lost twin, or something?"

The Sheriff threw his hands up into the air, realizing that none of his intimidation tactics were going to work now, not that he had ever had a chance to really try them out before. "Can one of you pull up this guy's picture on the computer so I can have a look at him?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Stiles said, running up to his room to grab his laptop, leaving Derek and the Sheriff to stare at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds.

Stiles came running back down the stairs and led them both into the living room, where he set his computer on the coffee table and booted it up, quickly going to the school's faculty page. He turned the computer towards his father.

The sheriff blinked in surprise. "Well, I'll be damned."

"See!" Derek said, feeling vindicated. "I told you!"

"Stiles!" the Sheriff said, practically yelling. "This guy looks exactly like me! He could be my twin!"

All Stiles could do was shrug, though he had to admit, now that it had been pointed out to him, the resemblance was uncanny.

The Sheriff scrubbed his head in confusion, the same motion Derek had seen Stiles make countless times. He laughed and sighed, giving the two boys a defeated look. "So, you two ate already, huh?"

They both nodded. 

"Well, I am beat," the Sheriff said, standing up. "You two have a good night. I'll see you in the morning."

They both watched as he made his way up the stairs. When they heard his bedroom door close, they both turned to each other and burst out laughing, unable to contain it any longer. Stiles fell into Derek and sighed.

"I told you, you would like him," he said.

"Yeah," Derek said, rubbing Stiles' back. "He's a good guy." Suddenly, Derek's face grew mischievous, and he pushed his nose into Stiles temple. "So, how would you feel about fooling around in your childhood bed?"

Stiles made a scandalous gasp. "Derek!" he hissed. "My dad is right down the hall!"

"I can be quiet," Derek replied, nipping his ear.

Stiles blushed. "I don't know. You were the one that pointed out his guns."

"That was before I knew he was Dr. Ashby's doppelganger," Derek said, kissing the hinge of Stiles' jaw. "Your dad probably doesn't even kill spiders."

"He doesn't," Stiles admitted. "He's always catching them and letting them go outside."

"See?" Derek insisted. "Nothing to worry about. Plus, I'm sure you have enough pillows we can use to muffle our dirty mouths."

Stiles turned his head to give Derek a kiss. It was the only thing he could think of doing to shut him up. The irony was not lost on him that it was usually the other way around.

"Okay," Stiles conceded. "But, we have to be really quiet! I'm pretty sure there are some things my dad never wants to know about me."

Derek chuckled. "He's an adult. I'm sure he can handle it."

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled Derek to his feet. "Come on, Romeo."

He led Derek to his room, and they fell onto Stiles' bed, wrapped up in each other's arms, lips pressed together, tongues dancing. Derek reached down to pull off Stiles' shirt, and them pulled off his own. He kissed his way down Stiles' neck and chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, eliciting soft lover's sighs from Stiles' delicate mouth as Stiles caressed the firm muscles of Derek's back, shoulders and arms.

"You're so beautiful, Derek," Stiles whispered, and Derek stopped what he was doing to smile up at him.

The pink flush on Stiles' cheeks stirred the growing fire in his loins, and he surged up to capture Stiles' lips with his own, kissing him as he ground their bodies against each other. He smiled at the now familiar feeling of Stiles' hands undoing his pants, and once his fly was down, stood up, and slowly stripped for Stiles while giving him the dirtiest smile he could. The pink flush of Stiles' face slowly crept down his chest and his breathing grew shallow, his ridiculous pink tongue poking out from between his soft pink lips. Derek pushed his underwear down, and Stiles' eyes immediately zeroed in on his cock. He was already semi-hard, with a glistening jewel of precum at the tip. Stiles licked his lips and pulled off his pants.

Derek approached him like a predator, flipped him over and lifted him up so that he was on all fours. He bit playfully at Stiles' bubble butt, and gave it a gentle slap.

"I want you to fuck me, Derek," Stiles whispered. 

"Oh, yeah?" Derek asked, a condom appearing in his hand as if by magic. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth. "What is it, exactly, you want me to do?" he teased, as he rolled the condom down his now stiff cock. 

Stiles whimpered. "I want you inside of me, Derek. I want to feel you inside of me."

Derek made an appreciative humming noise as he massaged Stiles' surprisingly firm ass cheeks. "Um," he said, pausing awkwardly and sounding slightly embarrassed, as his eyes searched the floor around him. "I don't know what happened to the lube. Do you have any?" 

Stiles froze for a second, then dropped his face down onto a pillow and laughed into it. Then, he sighed. "Way to kill the mood, Derek," he said, lifting his head and reaching over into his nightstand.

Derek chuckled and leaned down to kiss the small of Stiles' back. He grinned maniacally and pressed the head of his cock threateningly against Stiles' hole.

"Hey, hey, now!" Stiles said, jerking forward and tossing bottle of lube back at him. "We already talked about how this was gonna go down! Fingers first, and then your ridiculous meat sausage. And, be gentle!"

Derek smirked as he squirted some lube onto his cock and gave it a few quick strokes. He squirted a little more onto his hand, and then snapped the bottle closed and tossed it to the floor. Kneeling down, he rubbed small soft circles against the rim of Stiles' hole with the pad of his thumb, while gently chewing on Stiles ass.

"Oh, yeah," Stiles whispered.

"Is that gentle enough for you?" Derek asked wickedly.

"Mm hmm," Stiles whimpered.

Derek slowly inserted a slick finger into his hole, and Stiles groaned softly, his eyes rolling back as his eyelids fluttered. Derek pulled his finger out, then pushed it back in, trying to hit that special spot. Stiles squeaked suddenly, cramming a pillow against his face, and Derek smiled, giving his ass another playful bite as he added another finger. Stiles groaned into the pillow, pushing back against Derek's fingers now, his ass hungry for more.

He lifted his face from the pillow now. "Derek, I seriously need you to fuck me, now," he whispered, his voice desperate. 

Derek stood up, gently pressing the head of his cock against Stiles' loosened hole, and slowly pushed his way in. Stiles let out a loud grunt before he was able to cover his face with the pillow, and Derek laughed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, rubbing Stiles' back.

Stiles nodded into the pillow and made a motion with his hand that was a clear indication for Derek to get on with it already. Derek began thrusting slowly, marveling at how tight Stiles was and how good his cock felt inside of him. Stiles grunted with every thrust, biting down hard on the pillow, when all he wanted to do was scream and holler in ecstasy each time Derek's thick cock hit up against his prostate. He might be walking funny in the morning, but damn, it was going to be worth every second of it.

Derek lost himself in the rhythm of fucking Stiles' ass in a way he had never lost himself during sex before. He pounded into Stiles faster and faster; it felt so good he thought he was losing his mind. Stiles was finding it harder and harder to remember to keep quiet. He wanted to whimper, to cry out, to scream at Derek, "Fuck me!" and "Fuck me, harder!" but he was not suicidal, and he knew he might literally die of embarrassment if his dad barged in on them right now.

Stiles felt a white hot knot of ecstasy growing in the pit of his stomach, and it was traveling down the length of his dripping cock and surging inside of his balls. He hadn't even touched himself yet; Derek hadn't touched him yet, but he knew he was going to come. Derek was going to fuck him into an orgasm.

Derek felt his balls draw up, and that itchy sharp delicious pain scuttling over the surface of his cock. He was close. A drop of sweat dripped of his nose.

"Stiles!" he whined softly. "I'm gonna come! Give me a pillow!"

Stiles reached out blindly, throwing a pillow back to him. He could hardly concentrate; his own orgasm was immanent. 

Derek caught the pillow, thrust once, twice, three times, and he was gone. He flopped down onto Sitles' back with the pillow on his face, groaning loudly with each weakening thrust of his spitting and shuddering cock. Stiles simultaneously yelled into his pillow as he came all over his bed, his cock pumping out ropes of semen, seemingly of it's own accord.

Gasping, they rolled to the side, avoiding the wet spot, as Derek went soft inside of him, and just lay there breathing heavily for a while. Stiles turned his head around and Derek leaned forward to kiss him. His limp cock slid out of Stiles ass, and he pulled the condom off, tossing it into the wastebasket. Derek pulled him close and nuzzled into the back of his neck.

"That was amazing," he said, kissing Stiles between the shoulder blades. "You were amazing."

Stiles could feel himself blushing. He lifted one of Derek's hands to his mouth and kissed it. "I think you were right," he said.

"About what?" Derek asked.

"The reading," Stiles explained. "I don't think I'm going to get any reading done this week."

* * *

 

Stiles lifted the ridiculously heavy suitcase full of his books into the back of his Jeep. 

"Remind me to never again bring books home for Spring Break," he said, shoving it to make room for the rest of his things. He might not have gotten any reading done, but at least he was bringing four loads of freshly laundered and folded clothes back with him to the school.

Derek smirked at him, depositing his own suitcase and backpack. He walked back into the house with Stiles to get the last of Stiles' things, as well as the four bags of groceries Sheriff Stilinski had insisted on sending back with them.

The Sheriff was standing in the foyer waiting to see them off. He held his hand out for Derek, and Derek shook it firmly.

"It was nice meeting you Derek," he said, smiling warmly.

"You too, Mr. Stilinski," Derek replied.

"You take care of my son," the Sheriff said, giving Derek a knowing look. "I'm a Sheriff. You don't want to be on my bad side."

Derek chuffed a laugh and nodded.

Sheriff Stilinski smiled and pulled Derek in for a hug. Derek stumbled forward in surprise, but accepted the embrace, giving the Sheriff a good squeeze back. They separated, and Derek picked up one of Stiles' baskets of laundry with two grocery bags balanced on top of it, and carried it to the car. 

Once Derek was outside, the Sheriff gathered his son into his arms to hug him goodbye. He hugged him a little tighter and a little longer than was strictly necessary, but Stiles didn't mind. After a while, he held Stiles at arms' length, his eyes bright with tears.

"Your mother would have been so proud," he choked out. 

Stiles swallowed, any words he might have said getting caught in his throat, as he looked his father in the eye.

" _I'm_ proud of you," the Sheriff added.

Stiles blinked, and quickly lifted up a hand to brush a tear away. He pulled his dad in to hug him again. "I love you, dad," he whispered roughly.

"I love you, too," he dad said back to him. "You take care of each other down there, okay?"

Stiles nodded into his shoulder.

"Okay," his dad said, letting him go. "You'd better get going, or you're gonna hit traffic."

Stiles gave him a lopsided grinned, and picked up the last basket of clothes. His dad followed him out the door with the last two bags of groceries. Stiles put the basket into the back of the Jeep, and then took the groceries from his dad, and put them on top of everything else. He got into the driver's seat, joining Derek, who was already buckled into the passenger side.

"Everything okay?" Derek asked, noticing Stiles' red eyes.

Stiles smiled at him and nodded.

"You make sure to warn that Professor Ashby about me before I go down there to visit!" his dad called out to them. "I don't want him to die of a heart attack when he sees me!"

"You better eat your vegetables while I'm gone!" Stiles yelled back at him. "I don't want _you_ to die of a heart attack before I graduate!"

The Sheriff smiled and waved at them as Stiles backed out of the driveway. Stiles and Derek waved back as Stiles drove away.

"That was nice," Derek commented, as they pulled away from the house.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, smiling over at Derek. "I kind of forget how much I miss him when I'm gone."

Derek reaching out his hand, and Stiles grabbed it.

"Do you wanna stop somewhere for dinner, or do you wanna wait until we get back?" Stiles asked.

"I'm not really hungry," Derek replied. "Let's eat when we get back. This is the last day of Spring Break. I kind of want to cap it off with something nice. We should go to the Dancing River."

"All right, Mr. Moneybags," Stiles said. "If you want to ply me with expensive steaks, then I'm certainly not gonna stop you."

* * *

"Is it okay if you just let yourself out?" Derek asked, kissing Stiles on the cheek. "I gotta go."

"I guess," Stiles said, looking up from his computer. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere important," Derek said, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll see you later!"

The door closed and Stiles was left by himself in Derek's apartment. This had been happening all week. He picked up his phone and called Scott. After a few rings, it went to his voicemail.

"Hey, Scott," he said after the beep, "it's me, Stiles. Derek left me alone in his apartment again, and it's really kind of starting to freak me out. Call me back."

He shoved his phone into his pocket and then put his computer to sleep. He had no idea how long Derek was going to be gone and he had no desire to stay in Derek's apartment by himself. He pulled his phone out again and sent a mass text to his first-year friends.

From: Stiles Stilinski  
Going to student lounge. Come join if you want to study!

He put his phone away again, shoved his computer into his bag and left Derek's apartment. Like all of the student housing, Derek's apartment was at he bottom of the hill, but on the opposite side from Stiles' building. The student lounge was at the top of the hill, so Stiles started the short trek up, not really hurrying because in all honesty, he'd rather be walking right now than studying.

Derek had been acting really weird lately. He kept disappearing at weird times, and he would never tell Stiles where he was going. Stiles chewed absentmindedly on his bottom lip. Derek wouldn't cheat on him, would he? He was still affectionate, they still had sex like almost every day, they still hung out a lot despite Derek's random absences. If Derek was cheating on him with anyone at the school, he was sure he would have heard about it. What if he was getting together with someone in town?

His phone buzzed and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket. It was Scott.

"Hey, man!" Scott said.

"Hi," Stiles said, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"So, he ditched you again?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Stiles said.

"Are you in his apartment?" 

"No," Stiles answered. "I left. I'm heading up to the student lounge. Where are you?"

"I'm hanging out with Allison," Scott said. 

No surprise there, Stiles thought. 

"Jackson and Lydia are here, too," Scott continued. "We're at the bowling alley. You should come!"

"Why are you bowling?" Stiles asked. "You suck at bowling!"

"It was Lydia's idea," Scott replied miserably. "Come on, it would be so much more fun if you were here."

"As amazingly awesome as that sounds, I think I'm gonna pass," Stiles said. "I sent a text to a bunch of people saying I was gonna study in the student lounge. I really need to get this paper done for Exegesis, and I could really use some moral support."

His phone buzzed as if to reassure him that help was on the way.

"Okay, dude," Scott said. "I'll see you later."

"All right, man," Stiles replied. "You all have fun."

The line died, but he saw he had a text message. He opened it.

From: Danny Mahealani  
Damon and I will be up there in a minute.

Cool, thought Stiles, he wouldn't have to work on the paper alone. Plus, they might be able to give him some insight on the whole Derek situation.

When he got to the student lounge, there was a small group of second and third-years at one of the tables, but it was otherwise empty. He waved at them as he walked by, and they waved back. He sat down at a table this time, forgoing the usual grouping of couches and coffee tables in the middle of the room, because it would be easier to work on his paper with a table.

He had barely gotten his books out when Danny and Damon walked in.

"Hey, guys," he said, smiling at them.

Danny gave him a bro nod, because that was the kind of guy he was.

"Hi, Stiles," Damon said.

"Scott sent me a text saying Derek ditched you again," Danny said, showing Stiles his phone.

"I am seriously gonna kill that guy!" Stiles said, but not too loudly. People were studying.

Damon laughed.

"I'm serious!" Stiles insisted. "He does this like every time! I should just stop talking to people. I'll just tell Scott stuff, and then he can just text the whole school."

"He graduates this semester," Danny said. "You'll have to start talking to people again next year."

"Then, I'll call him," Stiles said, obstinately. "Anyway, Derek ditched me again!"

"We know," Danny deadpanned.

"What is he doing?" Stiles asked. "I don't get it!"

"Have you asked him?" Damon suggested, pulling his computer out of his bag.

"Yes, obviously," Stiles said. "But, he just gets really evasive. You know how fourth-years are. They've taken Theology and Ethics and stuff. They're really good at dodging questions."

Danny laughed. "Maybe we should follow him!" he said, conspiratorially.

"I already tried that," admitted Stiles, sighing and slumping into his chair. "I don't know if he saw me or not, but he probably did. He just went into the library and lost me in the stacks."

Danny and Damon both laughed.

"I don't know why you both think this is so funny," Stiles said miserably. 

"I just don't understand why this bothers you so much," Danny said.

"I don't know," Stiles said, shrugging. "It just seems kind of shady."

"Shady, as in how?" Danny asked. "What do you think he's doing?"

"I have no idea!" Stiles exclaimed. "That's the problem!"

"How long has this been going on?" Damon asked.

"About a week," Stiles answered.

Danny rolled his eyes. "It's probably nothing. You already knew Derek was weird before you started going out with him."

"He's not weird!" Stiles argued.

"Uh, yeah he is," Damon countered. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's probably like the hottest guy on campus, present company excluded, …"

Danny shook his head at him, but smiled anyway.

"…but, you have to admit," Damon continued, "he's a little creeptastic sometimes. The dude just really likes corners and shadows. He's been better since he's been with you, though."

"Thanks so much," Stiles said, sneering at him. "You know what, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I have homework to do. How far are you on the Exegesis paper?"

"I'm about halfway done," Danny said.

"I haven't even started it yet," Damon said, sounding almost proud of himself.

"Dude!" Stiles exclaimed. "It's due at the end of the week!"

Damon just shrugged and turned on his computer. "I do my best work under pressure."

* * *

"Do I even have to ask?" Stiles said, as he watched Derek shut down his computer.

Derek smiled at him apologetically. Derek's disappearing acts had been going on for almost a month now.

"When are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Stiles asked, trying to sound playful. 

Derek cocked his head to the side. "Actually," he said, but paused, like he was doing a calculation in his head. "What are you working on right now?"

"Just a reflection paper for Centering Prayer. Why?" Stiles answered.

"When is it due?" Derek asked, standing up and grabbing his backpack.

"Next Wednesday," Stiles answered, warily.

"So you're not really busy tonight?" Derek asked, moving slowly towards the door.

"Not really."

Derek nodded. "Meet me in front of the library in twenty minutes."

Stiles eyebrows shot up. "Really?!"

Derek laughed. "Twenty minutes," he repeated, opening the door. He stepped outside, smiled at Stiles, and then closed the door.

Stiles sat in shock, not knowing what to do. He pulled his phone out to check the time. It only took about four minutes to get up to the library from Derek's apartment, but he would give himself five. That left fifteen minutes to stew. 

He pulled up Scott's phone number to send him a message, but stopped himself. He didn't want everyone in the school to know about this. He grimaced a little at the thought. Maybe he wasn't being fair. It wasn't like Scott had ever broken confidence with him before. Maybe he just needed to start telling Scott which things he didn't want him sharing with other people. The only problem with that was that he considered Allison to be an extension of himself, so he felt free to tell her whatever he wanted. Maybe he should call Danny.

Checking his phone again, he realized he had managed to kill less than a minute of time through inane mental chatter. Maybe he could finish his reflection paper before he left. That should take at least fifteen minutes.

Concentrating was difficult. If he understood Derek's subtext correctly, the great mystery of the last month was about to be unveiled. What could it be? He had no idea. Derek hadn't left any clues around his apartment whatsoever. Stiles had checked. Multiple times. 

After the whole losing him in the stacks incident, he hadn't tried following him again. Once, he'd thought of asking someone else to follow him, but that had just seemed paranoid and crazy, so he never followed through with it.

He pounded out another paragraph on his reflection paper. Reflection papers were his favorite kind of homework. All he had to do was basically word vomit on the page and he was done! No well crafted arguments, no research, no works cited page. If only all of his homework was so easy.

Once he actually started working on it, he completely lost track of the time. Glancing up at the clock at the top right-hand corner of his computer screen, he saw that he only had three minutes left until their agreed upon meeting. Not bothering to save or even put his computer to sleep, he leapt out of his chair and scrambled out of Derek's apartment, running up the hill as fast as he could.

Derek was standing in front of the library with a shit-eating grin on his face, watching as Stiles ran up to him. He caught Stiles as Stiles crashed into him.

"Sorry I'm late!" Stiles gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Lost track of time."

Derek leaned forward and kissed him. Silently holding onto his hand, he pulled Stiles towards the library. Stiles' breathing slowly returned to normal as they walked through the stacks. The library housed over five floors of books, the ground floor, two more floors above that, and two floors below. Derek led Stiles to the stairwell, and then led him down.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked. He hadn't really explored much of the library beyond the ground floor.

"We're in the library, Stiles," Derek said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Hale," Stiles replied. "I see that now, thanks clarifying."

Derek smirked, but offered no further explanation.

Stiles was surprised when Derek kept walking past the bottom floor of books, leading him to the door that very clearly stated with bold black letters on a bright yellow field: Library Personnel Only!

"What are we doing?" Stiles asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Derek pulled his ridiculously large set of maintenance keys out of his pocket and held it up to Stiles, jingling it by way of explanation. He opened the door and pulled Stiles through.

"Are we even allowed to be down here?" Stiles asked, as Derek turned the light on.

"Don't worry about it," Derek replied, closing the door behind them. "No one ever comes down here, so no one will know."

Stiles looked down a short corridor with doors on either side. "What is this place?"

"Storage mostly," Derek answered, pulling him down the hallway. "I think."

"You think?" Stiles asked, one eyebrow raised.

Derek smiled back at him, his eyes filled with mirth. "Does it matter?"

Stiles laughed. "Apparently not."

Derek pulled his keys out again to open the second to last door on the right. Stiles could see pale flickering lights through the textured amber glass of the window that was set in the door. Derek pulled the door open, wafting the scent of warm cinnamon, orange and sandalwood at Stiles' face.

Stiles gawked at the small room filled with dozens of flickering candles casting their seductive light on a queen-sized four-poster bed draped with red and white gauze. The bed itself was covered with burgundy satin sheets and plump, squishy pillows. There was a tiny bowl on a nightstand, with the thin wisp of smoke rising from it, providing a heady and heavenly scent, and yes, there were rose petals on the floor and strewn across the bed.

"Derek Eugene Hale!" Stiles gasped. "Is this what you've been up to for the last month? Building a little love nest in the bowels of the SASR library?"

Derek raised an eyebrow at "Eugene." Derek refused to tell Stiles his middle name, since Stiles wouldn't tell him his first one, so Stiles delighted in bestowing him random middle names as circumstances permitted. He gently pulled Stiles towards him, and pressed their lips together softly. "Do you like it?"

Stiles smiled, shaking his head. "If the rest of the school only knew how much of a romantic softy you were…" he trailed off, kissing Derek again. "How did you even do this? Where did the bed come from?"

Derek shrugged as he slowly unbuttoned Stiles shirt. "The bed was in the maintenance storage shed. I'm guessing it belonged to one of the past presidents. I had to bring the frame in piece by piece and assemble it here." He ran his hands along Stiles shoulders and down his arms once all of his buttons were undone, skimming his shirt off of him and letting it fall to the floor. He started mouthing at Stiles' throat, but Stiles kept talking.

"What was in here before?" Stiles asked.

"Just a bunch of old furniture," Derek said, pulling off his own shirt and unbuckling his belt. "Some boxes, books, junk." He stepped out of his pants. "It was filthy in here. It took me about a week to clean it."

"Where did you put it all?" Stiles asked, still looking around the room in awe, still not really believing what he was seeing.

"I put it all in the other rooms," Derek said, tugging at Stiles pants while Stiles held onto his shoulders to keep his balance. He cupped and gently squeezed Stiles cock and balls through is underwear, drawing his attention back to where it was supposed to be. "Stiles," he said evenly, "you can ask me all the questions you want about this room later, I promise. But right now, I just really want you to fuck me."

Stiles swallowed. "Excuse me?" he squeaked. "You want me to what?"

Derek pulled Stiles' underwear off and started massaging his cock with his hand. He leaned forward and whispered into Stiles' ear, "I want you to put your dick in my ass."

Then, he slowly started walking backwards, gently pulling Stiles towards the bed.

"Um," Stiles said, swallowing nervously, "I don't know, Derek…"

Derek pulled Stiles' head towards him, kissing him softly and sucking on his lips. "I really want this, Stiles," he said. "I've been thinking about this for a really long time. I want to feel you inside of me."

Stiles nodded slowly. He could do this. He _would_ do this. He would do this for Derek.

Derek sat down on the bed, gently pulling Stiles with him as he lay down, their naked bodies writhing together. Derek raised his hips, grinding his flaccid cock against Stiles hardening one. Stiles kissed him, hungrily, swiveling his hips so that he could feel all of Derek against himself. Of all the things they had done, he had to admit that frottage was one of his favorites. But then again, pretty much everything he did with Derek was his favorite. 

Stiles cock grew rigid and long with Derek's rutting and he ran his hand down Derek's magnificently muscled chest. He would never get enough of that. Derek reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom. He tore the packet open, pulled the condom out and tossed the wrapper to the floor. Reaching down, he rolled it onto Stiles' cock. Stiles watched him do this with wide eyes, and for a second, he thought that sight of Derek's big hands rolling the condom down his shaft was all it was gonna take to make him come. Once it was on, he leaned his head down to kiss Derek again, grateful that he hadn't come prematurely. Derek wanted to be fucked, and Stiles was going to do his best to deliver.

Derek reached into the nightstand again and pulled out a packet of lube. He ripped it open with his teeth, and reached down to squeeze some of it onto Stiles' cock. Stiles stroked himself a few times to spread the lube, then looked into Derek's face.

"Do you want fingers first?" he asked.

Derek nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation. Stiles hooked his arms under Derek's legs so that he could lift them onto his shoulders, just like Derek had done to him countless times. Derek bit his bottom lip as Stiles felt for his hole, slowly probing with the tip of his finger. Derek gasped as Stiles slid his finger in.

"Is that okay?" Stiles asked, suddenly worried.

Derek nodded emphatically, then reached up, pulling Stiles toward him to kiss him. Derek sucked at his mouth and his tongue like a man starving as Stiles slid his finger in and out of his hole.

After a while, Derek let go of his head. "Give me another finger, Stiles," he demanded.

Stiles nodded, adding another finger as Derek grunted loudly. He kept grunting, each time Stiles pushed his fingers in until eventually, he started panting and licking his lips. Stiles grabbed Derek's cock with his other hand and started stroking as he worked his ass with his fingers.

"That's good, Stiles," Derek moaned. "That feels so good."

He stroked Derek's fat cock a few more times before asking, "Are you ready?"

Derek's head was thrown back against the pillows, but he nodded enthusiastically. 

Stiles pulled his fingers out, then used his hand to guide his cock into Derek's hole. He pushed his way in slowly, not wanting to hurt him, since this was Derek's first time.

Derek felt Stiles entering him, and the pressure was more than a little shocking. But, he wanted this. He'd dreamed about this, this very moment, ever since he had started putting the room together. Before that, even. Maybe even since the first time he had ever laid eyes on the pale and lanky, beautiful first-year with the ridiculous mouth and the ridiculous eyes. That was the purpose of the room. Its whole reason for being was to be a place for Stiles to fuck him.

Eventually, even going as slowly as he had, Stiles was all the way inside of him, and Derek howled with wild abandon. Stiles cock was definitely not beginner size, and even though Derek was definitely not a beginner when it came to sex, this was the first time he had ever had a cock up his ass. It hurt, but it also felt really, really good.

Stiles laughed. "Derek! Someone's gonna hear you!"

Derek shook his head. "No one's gonna hear. Now, fuck me, Stiles! Fuck me!"

"You're a bossy bottom!" Stiles exclaimed, but started thrusting slowly, just as he had been told.

Derek bucked and grunted beneath him and Stiles marveled at the way his cock felt inside of Derek. He was tight. So tight, and hot, and tight. It was a feeling that Stiles could definitely get used to.

Derek concentrated on the feeling of Stiles inside of him, his cock leaking a clear fluid onto his stomach and jerking every time Stiles pushed his way in. It was kind of sweet, actually, how gentle he was being, how careful. But, Derek didn't want careful.

"Fuck me, Stiles!" Derek yelled. "Fuck me, harder! Come on! Come on!"

Stiles screwed up his face in concentration, going faster and faster until it felt like they were riding out an earthquake. The bed frame was bouncing up and down until a loud crack reverberated throughout the tiny room, and the bed seemed to be lilting a little bit towards one of the corners. A tiny part in the back of Stiles mind wondered if they had literally just broken furniture because of their sexual escapades, but the rest of his mind was focused on how good his dick felt inside of Derek's ass, so he really didn't care.

Derek grunted and hollered like a cowboy, grasping at the mattress as Stiles pounded into him, faster and faster, like a jackhammer that had guzzled one too many energy drinks.

Stiles voice crested and fell with the waves of sensation coursing through his body. Frankly, he was amazed he had lasted this long, but he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Looking down, he saw how much of the slick, clear fluid was leaking out of Derek's fat cock, so he guessed that didn't really matter. Running his long fingers up and down Derek's shaft, slippery with precum, he stoked him in time to his thrusts. Suddenly, he felt Derek's cock jerking in his hand, and Derek was yelling and moaning as thick hot cum started spurting out onto his stomach. Stiles stroked him through his orgasm as Derek gasped, taking in deep ragged breaths.

Stiles felt his own orgasm coming, a tight, tingling sensation running up the shaft of his cock and forming a white hot point at the tip. He thrust into Derek faster and faster and felt Derek pushing against him, trying to get as much of Stiles cock into him as possible.

"Come on Stiles," Derek said encouragingly. "Come on, baby."

Stiles yelled, his eyes shooting open as his orgasm exploded through his body. He gave one more weak thrust before he collapsed on top of Derek, moaning as his cock shuddered inside of Derek's ass, feeling like the essence of his being was shooting down the length of his cock, spurting out the head and into the condom. He held onto Derek tightly with his arms and he floated down from what he could only call his orgasm high. He had never come so hard before in his life.

Eventually, he pulled his flaccid cock out of Derek's ass and Derek rearranged himself so that they were lying next to each other. Stiles lifted his head and kissed Derek softly. "We are so doing that again," he said, smiling against Derek's mouth.

"Hell yes, we are," Derek agreed. "This little room is going to be our home away from home." Derek sighed as he rubbed Stiles back, then started looking around at the bed curiously. "Is the bed uneven, now? It is, isn't it?" He laughed and looked at Stiles. "You heard that loud noise while you were pounding into me like a jackrabbit, right? I think you actually broke the bed frame with your fucking!"

Stiles blushed and laughed. "You're the one that kept saying, "Harder! Harder!'"

Derek laughed again and kissed him. "Come on," he said, slapping Stiles on the ass. "Let's check out the damage."

Derek swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He helped Stiles get to his feet, then squatted down at the corner where the bed was dipping low and laughed out loud.

"Stiles!" he said, excitedly, pointing at the floor. "You didn't break the bed. _You punched a hole through the floor!_ "

"What?!" Stiles exclaimed, squatting down to see it for himself. Sure enough, the leg of the bed frame had broken one of the floor tiles into several pieces and was now resting a full three inches lower than the other legs. "That's insane!" he said, shaking his head. "There must have been some kind of space underneath it, or something."

"Help me move the bed," Derek said, reaching down and grabbing onto the edge of the bed frame.

It was heavy, but between the two of them, they managed to lift the leg out of the hole and move the bed a little bit to the side. Derek lifted out the broken pieces of tile.

"There's something down there," he said, reaching in and lifting a small stack of papers. He blew across the top of them sending bits of tile to the floor and dust into the air.

"What are they?" Stiles asked, coming closer to see.

"I don't know," Derek replied, holding them at arms' length and shaking them to get the rest of the debris off. He started paging through them and his eyes went wide. "Holy shit! Stiles!"

"What?"

Derek held the papers up for Stiles to see. "These are bearer bonds!" He flipped through them quickly. "Some of them are US government bonds, but most are from banks and other investment firms."

They both got dressed and blew out the candles, Derek locking the door behind them as they left. Stiles followed Derek as he jogged to the computer lab, which was on the other side of the library. There was no one else in there. Derek thumbed through the bonds as he sat down in front of one of the computers, and pulled up a browser.

"There's hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of bonds here, Stiles," Derek said. "Maybe more."

"Does it say who they belong to?" Stiles asked.

"They're bearer bonds," Derek said, flipping through them again. He typed something into the search engine. "I think it means they belong to whoever's holding them."

Stiles grabbed onto Derek's shoulders. "Do you think it's Montgomery Hale's missing fortune?" he asked excitedly.

Derek turned to him, his eyes filled with wonder. "It has to be, right? Who else would have hidden them there?"

"Do you know what this means?!" Stiles said, standing up, unable to contain himself. "Those bonds were issued over a hundred years ago! Bonds earn interest!" He grabbed Derek's shoulders again. "There might be enough money there to save the school!"

Derek smiled at him, hopefully, but restrained. "We need to do some research first," he said, turning back to the computer. "We don't know exactly how much money is here yet."

Stiles hopped into the chair next to his in front of another computer. "Give me one of those," he demanded, holding his hand out for one of the bonds.

Derek smirked at him, and handed him one of the bonds. Stiles looked it over carefully, and pulled up a web browser. They both researched for over an hour, looking up government and banking websites, and figuring out the interest on some online calculators. In the end, they figured the bonds were worth over $100,000,000.00.

They grabbed each other, jumping up and down and screaming for joy. Stiles started running around the computer lab, waving his arms around, yelling, "A hundred million dollars! A hundred million dollars!"

Mr. Harris, the librarian, rushed into the computer lab, telling them to be quiet, but they ignored him in their excitement. They brought their celebration outside to the terrace in front of the library, howling at Mt. Tahkeome in the distance with their hands raised triumphantly in the air. The full moon, shining brightly over her, even though the sun hadn't set yet, seemed to be smiling down at them beneficently. 

Derek pulled Stiles in for a hug, the bonds in his hands, and kissed his goofy smile. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and kissed him back, and they just kissed, for long, glorious and happy minutes, the air cooling around them, as students occasionally passed by on their way to the library.

"Get a room!" they heard a voice call out to them.

They broke away from each other and turned to see whom it was. It was Scott, who was smirking at them and rolling his eyes as he opened the library door. Stiles beamed at him and waved, unable to help himself.

Derek held out one of the bonds for him. "I want you to have this," he said.

Stiles looked down at the yellowing piece of paper and gawked. "What?!" He looked up into Derek's eyes. "Why?"

"You're going to have a ridiculous amount of student debt once you graduate from this place, otherwise," Derek said. "This way, you won't have to worry about it. And, you'll be able to do whatever you want with your ministry, and money won't have to be a factor in what you decide to do."

Stiles held the bond out to him, shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "People don't just give each other this much money. Anyway, we need to use it to save the school."

Derek held up the rest of the bonds he was holding. "There is more than enough here to save the school. Besides, it's just as much your money as it is mine. We never would have found it if it wasn't for your…" Derek trailed off, trying to find the right words, "enthusiastic searching."

Stiles scoffed at him. "You're damn straight it was enthusiastic! And, we're going to enthusiastic again just as soon as you can handle it!" he said, grabbing Derek's ass and pulling him in for another kiss.

"Come on," Derek said, holding his hand for Stiles. "Let's head over to the president's office and see about getting this money transferred over to the school."

Stiles smiled, and grabbed his hand.


	2. Epilogue - Three Years Later

Stiles fidgeted with his wedding ring. Why was he nervous? He'd already finished all his coursework, passed all the exams, turned in all of the necessary fees and paperwork. The graduation ceremony was just for show. He ran his finger along his collar, pulling at it because it suddenly felt too hot and tight. Whoever decided that graduations should happen in the summer, and graduates should wear heavy black robes and stupid hats really needed to be punished.

He was milling around with his classmates, waiting for someone to tell them it was time to line up and get ready to walk onto the field. There were long rows of white chairs in front of the stage that the maintenance team had set up a few days ago. His dad caught his eye from where he was sitting and waved at him. Stiles smiled and waved back.

Derek came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder, his matching wedding ring glinting in the sunlight. Stiles smirked when he noticed it. The perennial joke was that the main reason people went to seminary was to get their MRS degree. He was almost ashamed to have contributed to the myth, although in his case, instead of a Mrs., he'd pulled it off with two Mr.'s.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked, rubbing circles into his back.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Stiles answered. "I'm glad, actually, you know? That Lydia made valedictorian. Now, I don't have to worry about giving a speech."

"You love giving speeches," Derek chided. 

"Not that much," Stiles replied, shrugging. Though it was true. He did love giving speeches. He was such a nerd.

"Why are you so nervous?" Derek asked. "It's just a graduation ceremony."

Stiles scoffed at him. "Easy for you to say, _Dr. Hale_! You already graduated! Twice! I was there!"

Derek laughed. "That's Dr. Stilinski-Hale, to you, thank you very much," he said, brushing some lint off of Stiles' robe. "You know, I heard they're gonna name your old apartment building after you. The Stilinski Apartments. They're probably gonna announce it during the ceremony." 

Stiles smiled and shook his head, looking slightly scandalized. "Can you imagine? If they ever found out how we got the bonds?" 

Derek blushed as they laughed.

Then, Stiles groaned. "Really? The Stilinski Apartments? That's a horrible name. And, a dubious honor!" he said, brandishing his fist at no one in particular. "Those apartments suck!" He laughed. "Well, I guess the name fits."

"You're wrong," Derek said, giving him a ridiculous smile.

Stiles huffed at him. "Trust me, I know. I lived in one of those apartments during my first year, in case you forgot. Those apartments are horrible."

Derek laughed. "Well, okay, I can't argue with you about that." He kissed Stiles then, long and deep, smiling at him again when he pulled back. "But, you're still wrong."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, sounding slightly annoyed. "What am I wrong about?"

"The name," Derek said. "It's a beautiful name."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and maybe would like to read something a little less smutty (or like not smutty at all) I invite you to visit my other fic, Clan of the Night Flowers! It has ninjas and magic and is a super fun adventure! Oh, and a pretty heavy dose of Sterek, just in case you like that kind of thing. XD


End file.
